


I can lose myself, you I can’t live without

by Huntress79, SomeSortofItalianRoast



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, White Collar
Genre: (there is an Alpha who creeps on Steve), Alpha Neal Caffrey, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Captain America Steve Rogers, Crossover, Don’t copy to another site, Endgame? What Endgame?, Established Relationship, M/M, MCU canon has been cherry-picked for juicy bits, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Steve Rogers, Omega!Steve, Safer Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, after white collar 6.6 (au revoir), alpha!neal, established crossover pairing, hydra being hydra, no dubcon; but standard A/B/O consent warnings, post-canon (white collar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 06:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSortofItalianRoast/pseuds/SomeSortofItalianRoast
Summary: Omega Steve Rogers is Mated to Alpha Neal Caffrey. The Avengers don't know about it, or Neal's backstory. Until they do. Then all hell, or rather, HYDRA, breaks loose.“So who was the hottie Alpha you were scenting on the street, huh?” Bucky asks out of the blue one day, and Steve’s heart plummets.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neal Caffrey/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95
Collections: Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang





	1. Prologue : Steve

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 2019 Captain America Big Bang Challenge. 
> 
> Thank you to my various betas (TheCosmicMushroom (who found all the random commas) and Betheflame (who both put up with way too much with this story and helped drag it into something readable)), everyone who let me bounce ideas off of them or otherwise helped me when I thought I'd written myself into a corner, and especially to the Captain America Big Discord Server, who offered help and support during this bang. 
> 
> Thank you to Huntress79 for creating the art!  
[Art masterpost can be found here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385873)! 
> 
> The title is from the song ["Red Hill Mining Town," by U2](https://open.spotify.com/track/2G4F5Fc0DUFkkODwhWnbmt?si=s_GqSImeR76lxslmkUQmCw).  
Bono, Clayton, Adam C., The Edge, and Mullen, Jr., Larry J. (1987). Red Hill Mining Town. [Recorded by U2]. On _The Joshua Tree_. [Compact Disc]. Dublin, Ireland: Island Records.
> 
> _Please feel free to ask for clarification about any of the tags_.
> 
> _**Please be advised that "I can lose myself, you I can’t live without" spoils the series finale (6.6 Au Revoir) of White Collar**_.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve reflects on his past, and his life.

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[](https://images2.imgbox.com/75/9b/DYsmDURn_o.jpg)

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/95/a9/0ZAu9Rds_o.jpg)

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Steve wasn’t sure how he’d ever gotten so lucky. After everything that had happened to him, after all of the things he’d lost, after all of the _people_ he’d loved and lost, being happily Mated wasn’t something he’d ever thought possible. He knew he’d have loved being married and Mated to Peggy Carter, had fate dealt him those cards, and he’d always been more than happy to share his Heats with Bucky, before the War, before the serum, before the Fall, before the _Valkyrie_. 

He learned later that he’d spent 70 years frozen, only to be found and defrosted just two short weeks before fucking _aliens_ invaded New York City. The very same New York City that, just days earlier, he’d given his life to save was threatened again, this time by an army from outer space, led by a smart-mouthed slimy git who called himself “Loki.” He’d slept for 70 years, during which everything and nothing changed. This world he’d awoken to, with its flashing neon and noises, was… It was too much, it was too different. He hadn’t been able to do much, to even figure out what was wrong, what had changed, before the aliens attacked. After the hastily formed “Avengers” defeated the Chitauri and broke through the mind control on Thor’s brother (aliens who really were the gods of myth and legend), Steve tried to travel across the country to see the things he’d promised Bucky they’d see once they got back stateside. Before he married Peggy and settled down. S.H.I.E.L.D. sent him to DC, instead. 

Looking back on it, Steve realized he shouldn’t have been as surprised to learn that HYDRA had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. from the very beginning. There were signs, things he saw when looking back on what happened. The suit, the stealth missions, the team of sadistic, limp-knotted jocks. He, Sam, and Hill, had taken down the Project Insight helicarriers, replacing the data chips with seconds to spare, Sam taking on Brock Rumlow in hand-to-hand combat, after the later had revealed himself to be HYDRA. Steve had learned Bucky was still alive but only as the assassin known as The Winter Soldier. In the aftermath, Bucky had survived the battle, Steve was sure of it, but he hadn’t been seen since.

Then came General Thaddeus Ross’ attempt to control the Avengers with the so-called “Sokovian Accords”, which was odd, considering Justin Hammer had used stolen Stark Industries technology in an attempt to destroy Sokovia under the order of HYDRA, and the Avengers had saved the city with a minimum of casualties. Then, there was the attack at the United Nations, Wakandan King T’Chaka barely escaping with his life thanks to some sort of extremely hi-tech and cutting-edge body armor created by Wakanda’s head of research and development, Princess Shuri. Hammer and HYDRA were responsible for the attack, but Bucky was blamed. Shit did go down, but, with Tony’s help, the truth came out, HYDRA was exposed (again), and Bucky was invited to go to Wakanda. Shuri promised to help him recover from what HYDRA did to him while he was in their possession for all those years. Shuri also found and posted video footage of what HYDRA did to their Winter Soldier - including when they hosed him down with a fire hose and when they reprogrammed him with the Chair - which helped turn the tide of popular opinion about whether Bucky Barnes had willingly worked with HYDRA.

After everything, after all that, once Steve had Bucky back, back from HYDRA, back from Wakanda, he learned that Bucky wasn’t interested in sharing one of Stark’s large and lavish apartments with Steve, or in sharing his Heats with Steve. Nor was he interested in being in Heat around Steve’s Alpha (who’d simply smirked, a quirk of his expressive lips, when Steve had mentioned his old friend who might need a helping hand during his upcoming Heat). Apparently, some things hadn’t changed as much as he had thought they would have, if sharing Heats with your Mated was still acceptable (though, in all fairness, that might just have been Neal). 

It had all started almost 4 years ago, when Neal had attempted to pick his pocket on a busy street in Brooklyn, and Steve had grabbed him, spinning them both into an alley, Neal’s back against a grimy brick wall. Neal had played the charming conman, attempting to prove to Steve that he’d simply bumped into him, and the fact that his hand had been reaching into Steve’s lapel pocket was pure coincidence. Steve hadn’t believed him but let him go with a stern warning not to do it again. A few days later, he’d run into Neal again - this time more or less _literally_ \- and he’d realized what had been bothering him during their first meeting. Neal had had no idea who he was, just that he’d appeared to be a rich-enough-looking mark wandering down a street in Brooklyn without paying enough attention to his belongings. 

After helping Neal pick himself up off the street, he’d offered to buy him coffee and listen to his story. It had been around then when he’d learned that something bad had happened in Neal’s life recently, something that had left him without moors, without anchor points, and made him feel adrift in a new world. While he’d known that Neal wasn’t like him, that he hadn’t been frozen-to-awoken more than 70 years into the future, what he’d said sounded achingly familiar, and Steve had wanted to learn more about him. He’d learned that he had been given a fake name (Neal had probably thought it was hilarious to say his name was Steve Tabernacle when he heard Steve’s name), and Neal had slipped a yellow origami flower into his wallet. It took a while, but Steve discovered his real name, though Neal had held on to it as though he was making a deal with the Fae. The flowers had continued to appear in Steve’s possession, though he’d never seen Neal fold one. 

They spent more and more time together, getting to know each other, falling into bed with each other, the secret of Captain America, of being _that_ Steve Rogers, weighing on Steve more and more the longer they were together. He never told Neal that he was an Omega, either, allowing him to make the assumption that everyone made - that Steve was an Alpha. It was an easy assumption, one that everyone made when they saw how tall he was, how big and strong he was. The heavy-duty suppressants Helen Cho created for him helped with that too, keeping the distinctive Omega pheromones from his scent. From the way Neal dressed, looked, and acted, he was pretty sure Neal was an Omega, though he was on exceptionally strong suppressants, his scent muted and almost muddy, enough to be off-putting to someone with heightened senses like Steve. It wasn’t until shortly before Steve’s first, medically necessary, Heat after they got together that he noted the slight musky scent of Alpha on Neal, a hint of oil paints and rich black coffee, something that worked surprisingly well with the expensive cologne he preferred. 

Neal admitted he was an Alpha and that he had been on very strong suppressants for a reason he wasn’t comfortable speaking about, heavily implying that his recent life changing event - the one he also didn’t speak about, _ever_ \- had caused him to go back on the heavy suppressants. He hadn’t liked taking them and had been in the process of cycling off of them when Steve had run into him that day. He’d paused after saying that, before adding, “And you have a Heat coming up.” 

Steve had been embarrassed to talk about his upcoming Heat, though he accepted Neal’s offer of a Heat pair, and he had spent the best Heat of the new millennium, the best Heat… since his last shared Heat with Bucky, back before Bucky went off to boot camp and then shipped overseas to the Italian Front. Neal was an extremely low-drive Alpha, which was perfect for Steve, since usually all he needed from an Alpha was a knot and some pheromones. Neal didn’t even go into Sympathy Rut during Steve’s Heat, saying that it was very rare for him to do so. 

During lulls in Steve’s Heat, he’d talked about sharing his first Heats with Bucky (in secret since they were both men and Omegas) then later with Peggy, furtively in army camps, and about how he missed some of the things that had been so common in his day. Neal had smiled and murmured that he’d figured out that Steve was Captain America about a week after they’d met the second time, but was waiting for Steve to finally tell him. They discussed how their designations had helped or hindered them, from Steve’s being officially redacted and classified as need-to-know at the highest S.H.I.E.L.D. clearance level and Neal talking about how many blood tests he’d had done on him. Someone named “Peter” hadn’t believed the initial results of the blood test and had ordered it redone. Twice. 

After they shared Steve’s Heat, they started seeing each other more regularly, talking on the phone and texting frequently (something that would surprise the public but not the Avengers), Neal’s voice being one of the last things Steve heard before falling asleep when they were apart. Their relationship grew in leaps and bounds, but Steve never introduced Neal to the Avengers; not when they finalized their bond with Mating Bites, not when they bought a townhouse in Brooklyn together, not even when Steve was captured by a supervillain who injected him with an unknown chemical that triggered a Heat, revealing Captain America’s Omega designation to the world (and times had changed enough that, surprisingly, the world did not care). Stark still wasn’t sure what the chemical was or how it did what it did, but he was quite happy to sick Stark Industries’ lawyers on anyone who attempted to discover the identity of the Alpha Steve had mentioned during the multitude of press conferences about the supervillain incident. The Avengers may not have liked that Steve had a mystery Alpha that they hadn’t vetted, but Steve’s privacy was paramount, no matter what Tony or Natasha (or Bucky) said. 

The secrecy, both keeping Neal from the Avengers and keeping the Avengers from Neal, was hard on Steve. It was the simple intimacy he saw from bonded pairs that hurt Steve the most. It was watching Omega Tony and Alpha Pepper embracing on the landing pad. It was Thor scooping the minuscule Alpha Dr. Jane Foster into his arms, listening as Beta Bruce talked softly on the phone with Alpha Dr. Betty Ross, or seeing Beta Clint have a very quiet phone conversation with someone. Even the non-bonded pairs showed the affection he could never have, as long as he kept his life with Neal and his life as an Avenger separate. It was watching Bucky get a big hug from Alpha Darcy, or Alpha Sharon Carter and Natasha (he didn’t know Natasha’s designation and it wasn’t important to him). Tony regularly invited Steve’s mystery Alpha to the Tower, but Steve always declined, knowing how much Neal loved their townhouse in Brooklyn, knowing how much Neal loved his anonymity, his privacy.

Steve was sure Bucky had seen Neal’s Mating Bites on the back of his neck, though he hadn’t meant for him to see. An Assemble call had forced him to leave Neal before his Heat was fully over, leaving his body still buzzing with hormones, and causing his skin to feel hot and tight, for him to feel vaguely unsatisfied overall. Not the best way to start a mission, pulling on the Captain America uniform and cowl, when he would rather have been being knotted by his Mate. 

Steve remembers tugging at his uniform collar, at his cowl, at the godforsaken chest zippers, attempting to keep the kevlar from choking him, and saw Bucky staring at his neck. But he didn’t say anything. Not to Steve, not to the Avengers, not to anyone, as far as Steve knew. Bucky, who would know that Steve didn’t have Mating Bites, that Peggy had never left them on Steve, didn’t say anything about the marks he had to have recognized. Perhaps he, like the rest of the Avengers, decided to respect Steve’s privacy, even when it came to an unidentified Alpha, an unidentified Mate, and his best friend. Steve should have realized that it would not last. 

Steve didn’t know when the two had seen each other or how long had passed before he mentioned seeing him to the Avengers. He didn’t know what Bucky saw, what he and Neal had been doing, but he knew that they had been seen together in public, possibly greeting each other after having been apart, after Neal having watched whatever fight the Avengers had been in, without the slightest hint of worry showing through his poker face. It might have been a simple embrace, or that time Neal scented him on the street because he’d had to watch Steve take a bad hit as Captain America and then hadn’t been able to reach him for hours after the fight. 

That night, Neal had held Steve to him, clutching him, murmuring to him, his oil paint and coffee pheromones stronger than Steve had ever smelled them, until they eventually fell asleep around 3 AM. Steve had given Neal a number he could call in the event that something like that happened again, but warned him that the Avengers would know who he was if he ever called it. 

It was then, after Bucky unknowingly opened a can of worms, that Steve told the team about Neal. Not his name, not his history, not how they met, but about Neal the person and who he was and why he was important to Steve. As he left the kitchen, he couldn’t believe that he’d told the Avengers about Neal, after all of their secrecy, but, looking back at it, he was glad that he did, since keeping the secret had been wearing at him. Even if the Avengers learning of Neal Caffrey’s existence caused what happened next.


	2. Chapter 1 : I’m gonna come stay with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the immediate aftermath of a reasonable question, Steve makes a questionable decision.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/fc/35/KWv9AWjc_o.jpg)

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_This wasn’t how I wanted to tell my team about my Mate_, Steve thought as he left the common area, one hand wrapped around a warm mug of coffee, clutching it to him as if it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. His Serum-enhanced hearing allowed him to hear the collective chaos erupting behind him as he stepped into the elevator, everyone speaking at once, Natasha and Bucky exclaiming as Tony yelled that he knew it. He pulled his phone out, calling Neal to warn him, even as he made plans on how best to reign Tony in while allowing the Avengers to investigate, as he knew they would. It would be far easier for everyone if Steve didn't try to stop them, and there was less of a chance of Neal being kidnapped and threatened by Nat. While Steve knew it wouldn't be Neal’s first kidnapping (it wouldn’t even been his first kidnapping by a dangerous and enhanced redhead), he wanted to prevent that. Neal might be a rather non-territorial Alpha, but there were occasions when his instincts and designation overcame his usual level-headedness. An Omega named Kate was a perfect example, but Neal didn’t like talking about her and Steve didn’t want to press. 

“_Hey, sugar_,” Neal’s voice was sleep roughened over the phone, as though Steve had woken him. He’d still been asleep when Steve had left, well before the sun had come up. “_You were gone when I woke up and was hoping you’d be back before too long_.” Steve knew what he wasn’t saying, how his Alpha instincts must have railed against his Mated Omega leaving their bed, leaving him, in the middle of the night. 

“Had to get my run in, sweetie. Then I headed back to the Tower to check in with the team,” Steve said, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “I wish I could have stayed.”

“_I agreed, Steve,_” Neal reminded him, his soft voice hiding the steel in his words. Neal could get almost anyone to do whatever he wanted, even without using his Alpha voice on them. “_I agreed that anyone knowing about me, even your teammates, would put me in danger. And you agreed that they’d take one look at my history and make assumptions before they’d even met me_.” 

“Doesn’t make me feel any better about leaving you every time,” Steve said as the elevator dinged and he stepped out onto the floor he shared with Bucky and Bruce. As J.A.R.V.I.S. opened the door to his suite, he remembered that Bucky had brought up his mystery boyfriend, and asked Neal if he remembered seeing anyone who stood out for any reason in the last few days. He pulled a set of luggage from his linen closet and started packing, trusting Neal to use experience from his past career to sort through everyone he’d seen the previous day or so and remember if he’d been followed.

“_Yeah, there was this guy in the window seat at the Irish pub at the corner. Grumpy asshole. Was staring at us_,” he said. Steve heard him take a sip of his coffee and put the mug down with a clink. “_I didn’t think to mention it because he didn’t look familiar and he didn’t give any indication that he was homophobic or anything_.” 

“I’m gonna text you a picture of Bucky, see if he was the person you saw.” Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and texted the picture to Neal as he continued to pack his suitcases. With a click, he put Neal on speaker. 

“_Yeah, that’s him. I’d recognize that scowly murderface anywhere_.” Steve could hear the smile on Neal’s face as he said it. “_He a member of your team_?”

“You could say that, yeah. That’s Bucky,” Steve said, closing his filled suitcase and opening another. “He saw us and asked about you in front of Tony, so my team knows about you. They’re gonna be curious, and they’re all incredibly socially-incompetent when they’re curious, so I’m gonna come and stay with you.” Steve paused for a moment, hands stilling in his rush of packing. “If that’s okay?” They’d never talked about living together. Not officially, anyway, with Steve changing the address on his driver's license to reflect where his heart lived. Steve was still surprised that they’d managed to buy the three-story townhouse in Brooklyn together, putting down his initials instead of his recognizable, famous, name on the legal documents at the advice of Neal’s lawyer, a squirrelly little bald guy who’d refused to give Steve his real name. Steve may have spent more nights at the townhouse than he spent in the Tower, but he could never spend as much time with Neal as he wanted to. Steve found keeping the secret chafing, keeping him from bringing Neal to events and showing off who he loved. Neal may have agreed, Neal may have encouraged, but it wore on Steve.

“_You’re welcome for as long as you want, Steve_,” Neal said after a pause. Steve knew that, no matter how much it hurt him, it hurt Neal just as much or more to have to be apart. An Alpha had instincts to protect, to take care, and they get antsy when they can’t do that. He pulled a small silk jeweler’s pouch from his nightstand, and tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans. If anyone had asked about it, Steve would have told them that it contained his parents’ wedding rings. He’d done that with the pair of Neal’s cufflinks that Tony had found on the sink in his private bathroom, saying that “they were my father’s. Stop invading my privacy, Tony!” Luckily, Tony didn’t ask either why a poor Irish immigrant who had died in the First World War had owned cufflinks in the first place or why his mother hadn’t sold them during the Depression, but Steve had learned his lesson about leaving anything of Neal’s in his apartment at the tower. Steve had found the cufflinks in the pocket of his jacket when he was changing, and made a point to religiously check the pockets of any clothing he had laundered via Tony’s system in the tower. 

“_Steve_?” Neal’s voice cut into his thoughts, the anxiety and touch of Alpha in his voice indicative to Steve that he’d been trying to get his attention for a while. 

“Sorry, I zoned for a moment,” he said. “I’m gonna double check that I have everything, and I’m gonna…” Steve trailed off again. “Come see you,” he finished, lamely, before asked “what time do you have to be at the gallery?”

“_Not until after 1 today_,” Neal said. “_One of my favorite things about owning this gallery is that I get to set my own hours_.” From what he knew about Neal’s history, Steve knew that having a regimented schedule was one of the few things Neal could not stand. A regimented schedule, being restrained in anyway, and having anything against his left calf. And deviled ham, but the smell of deviled ham made him sad, while being restrained had caused a (minor) panic attack (and ‘bondage’ to be crossed off of any of their bedroom experiments).


	3. Chapter 2 : Steve’s Alpha Romeo?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning about Steve's Alpha Mate, the Avengers do research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to BeaArthurPendragon and betheflame for the nicknames Tony gives Neal.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/0d/32/o63uZH1u_o.jpg)

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The Avengers were not happy. About a lot of things, both major and minor, depending on the Avenger in question (or possibly both, since Tony was furious that Hammer Industries was going to get away with actively and knowingly supplying weapons and support to HYDRA and upset that Sisley Paris had stopped producing Pepper’s favorite shade of red lipstick).

But this, this was a special level of ‘not happy.’ This was ‘vein throbbing on Fury’s forehead’ levels of ‘not happy.’ This was ‘learning HYDRA was rotting away S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside’ levels of ‘not happy.’ This was ‘get the lawyers on the phone’ levels of ‘not happy.’ While they had known that Steve _Captain Fucking America_ Rogers had been seeing an Alpha who did not live at the Tower, they were not happy that he had managed to Mate the unknown Alpha without anyone noticing. They didn’t even know the Alpha’s scent, despite Steve and his unknown Alpha spending most of their time apart, which must play havoc on the emotions and hormones of both of them. From that, they knew that Steve’s Alpha was a very controlled Alpha, one capable of letting their Omega leave without being covered in their scent. Bruce and Sam speculated that he must be a very low-drive Alpha, one capable of controlling his instincts, since no one could remember Steve ever smelling like an Alpha, even when he smelled of Heat. 

On top of that, on top of Steve Mating an unknown Alpha, James Buchanan _the Winter Fucking Soldier_ Barnes had seen the mysterious Alpha and failed to get a picture. He’d failed even to recognize the importance of the situation. The Avengers let him know in no uncertain terms that it was up to him to get a photograph of this Alpha and that he and Natasha were to research him, even as they quickly scrambled to figure out who Steve might be talking about. 

Natasha started by asking J.A.R.V.I.S. to show her all records of who Steve had talked to while in the Tower, ordered by the number of times he called or answered the caller, be it audio, visual, text or another form of communication. Unsurprisingly, Steve didn’t have a large number of Starktime calls. Surprisingly, though, the number he called and texted the most often belonged to a pay phone. In Jersey City. Either Steve regularly _texted_ someone at a fucking pay phone in Jersey City or there was more at stake. Tony immediately asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to tell them when Steve left the Tower. There was no question that Steve was going to go to his mysterious Alpha, it was merely a question of _when_, not _if_, he left the Tower. Watching their preparations at the table in the common room with a bemused air, Bruce wondered aloud to Sam if Steve might not want to come back to the Tower, if he learned that their immediate reaction to him telling them that he was Mated was to attempt to track down his Alpha. 

“Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he’s kept his Mate a secret,” Bruce mused knowingly to Sam, holding his cup of coffee gently in his hands. He allowed himself a single small cup of caffeinated coffee a day, and otherwise drank decaf or non-caffeinated beverages. “It’s what I would do, if I were in Steve’s position.” He gave a pained smile when Natasha looked at them, everyone suddenly remembering how Bruce’s fiancée’s father had tracked him down, calling him a monster, using his feelings for Betty Ross against him. It was clear that he understood why Steve would keep something as important as his Mate from the Avengers, and that Sam agreed with him. Without knowing anything about the Alpha, it was difficult for Tony and Natasha to agree with Bruce, and Bucky would likely never agree with Bruce. It was Steve, his childhood friend, he was worried about. 

With that in mind, Clint attempted to follow Steve as he left the Tower, but lost him in the crowds in the subway system. He reported that Steve was carrying a backpack, a duffle bag, a rolling suitcase, and his laptop bag, and was talking to someone on his Bluetooth headphones. It was not clear if he was carrying his shield, or if he had left it in his quarters in the Tower. Based on his luggage, Clint stated that he was reasonably sure that Steve was not carrying the shield, prompting Tony to ask J.A.R.V.I.S. if the famed vibranium shield had left the Tower. J.A.R.V.I.S. replied in the negative. 

While following Steve, Clint never got close enough to hear who he was talking to and Steve was strangely good at disrupting lip readers. For a man as large as Steve, for someone who stood so tall amongst the crowds, Steve was strangely good at blending in when he wanted to, especially into crowded New York streets. He wasn’t good enough at blending in for undercover operations and definitely not inconspicuous enough for infiltration missions, but he was good enough for Clint to lose him in the controlled chaos that was the New York City subway system. He stated that Steve got on the 6 train at the Grand Central Terminal, and that he was able to follow him until he got off the train at the Broadway–Lafayette Street/Bleecker Street station. Clint reported that Steve caught the F train in the direction of Brooklyn, but that he lost him in the chaos of the station as they changed trains. Clint admitted that he didn’t know if Steve stayed on the F train or if he got off at a different station and made his way over to another subway line. 

Shortly after Clint returned to the Tower, Natasha mentioned that Steve didn’t spend most of his nights at the Tower, something all of the Avengers had noticed. Steve was remarkably unwilling to tell anyone where he spent his down time, though they usually didn’t worry about it, since Steve was Steve, and he could take care of himself. Everyone understood why Steve might want to have a place to go to ground if he needed to, Sam and Bruce the most, but Clint, Tony, Natasha, and Bucky were concerned about how secure the place where Steve tended to spend his nights was. It wouldn’t do for _Captain America_ to have his house broken into while he slept, after all. 

Tony asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to see if he would show them the GPS data for any non-Avengers or Avengers-related out of Tower travel that Steve had done in the last 6 months, and displayed the data overlaid above a map of New York. Steve had been to a lot of art galleries, bookstores, art supply stores, bars, bodegas, museums, and subway stations. With nothing was immediately jumping out at them, they were trying to narrow down his shopping trips to where he might spend more time, when Bucky asked if they could pull Steve’s financial records. Tony nodded and set J.A.R.V.I.S. on it, warning them that it could take some time. 

“We can track any device we made with a chip. If I wanted, I could show you the location of every single SI device with a GPS chip, anywhere in the world. Cell phone, smart phone, tablet, mp3 player, you name it, if it has a chip, we can track it. J.A.R.V.I.S. can track any incoming or outgoing call made anywhere he’s been fully installed, like the Tower or the Malibu House. That’s important during industrial espionage attempts, or if any threat leads to the evacuation of the Tower or any SI facility with the correct software, J.A.R.V.I.S. can track the location of the caller. For company credit or debit cards, those transactions go through our systems, so we have our own records, in the event of dispute or other arbitration or litigation. Other credit cards and bank statements, however, not so much. J.A.R.V.I.S. can hack into the systems, that’s not a problem, but it takes him a bit longer.”

“Isn’t that illegal, Tony?” Sam asked with a sigh. He didn’t try to stop Tony, or pull out his phone to let Steve know about the tracking, deciding that it was better to let Tony do that and rein him in, as opposed to stopping him directly. 

“It’s in the Terms of Use Agreement that comes with every SI device, that we can track it. And it’s in the stack of paperwork everyone who works at an SI facility signs when they’re hired. Including the janitors, housekeepers, and other support staff.” Stark shrugged. “Normally, I would have drawn the line at looking at someone’s personal financial statements without due cause, but this _is_ our Capsicle.”

“You, draw a line at doing something?” Bruce asked, shaking his head with a bemused smile.

“Hey, we got something,” Natasha interrupted, studying in the overlaid map. “Looks like Steve regularly goes to an address in Park Slope. It’s zoned for both residential and commercial properties, but there’s nothing at that address. Looks to be a townhouse.”

“Park Slope? That’s one of the most expensive neighborhoods in New York,” Tony said, leaning over to look at the map. “How does he afford that? His Alpha Romeo must be loaded.” He reached out and manipulated the map to enlarge the area. The rest of the team rolled their eyes at the nickname but Clint, who snorted slightly, before speaking. 

“According to this, Cap’s GPS shows him there most of the times that he’s not working as an Avenger. It’s near a subway station with a lot of data pings, so that’s probably how he gets to and from the Tower.” Clint pointed to the Seventh Avenue subway station on the map. “That station is on the F Train line, and matches with where I lost him this afternoon. I still can’t believe I lost _Steve_ in the Subway.”

“You forget that Stevie _is_ a native New Yorker,” Bucky said, “so don’t take it too hard. You’re not the first person he’s done that to. How do you think he survived living in DC all that time?”

“Let’s focus on this for now,” Natasha said, tapping a few things on the holographic display and bringing up a street-level view of the townhouse. It was a normal looking brownstone, with nothing differentiating it from the townhouses on either side of it, nothing marking it as the home of one of the most targeted men in the world, if not _the_ most targeted man in the world. Not Captain America, no, but his unknown Alpha. Without knowing anything about the Alpha in question, there was no way to know if he could take care of himself, or if he was even aware of the target on his back. 

“There’s no obvious security, according to these images…” Tony said, zooming in on the door and the windows. “Are they somehow unaware that Prince Charming is one of the most targeted men in New York City? Or has Steve Mated some super-secret ninja assassin? I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited all of those.” 

“According to the municipal records, that brownstone is owned by an ‘N. C. and S. Grant Rogers.’ Are they using their initials to hide their identity?” Natasha asked. She tapped a few buttons, pulling up the deed to the townhouse and displaying it for the assembled Avengers. 

“Who’s the lawyer for Steve and his HubCap?” Tony asked, tapping a few more buttons. 

“Uh, a Theodore Winters.” Natasha tapped another button and flicked her screen across to Tony, who tapped a few more buttons and pulled up all the easily available information the lawyer. 

“Went to law school, passed the bar… Not much available about him, though it says here he was declared dead after a fire at a warehouse. That was eventually rescinded, though it took a while and some active campaigning by an FBI agent…” Tony muttered to himself as he hacked into various databases, finding everything there was to find about Theodore Winters. 

“Anything else we can get?” Clint asked. “What about cell phone records from the owner of the townhouse?”

“Steve’s Alpha Romeo?” Tony asked, glancing up from the data he was tapping through. “Someone has already gone to the hassle of making it look like Steve’s regularly texting a payphone in New Jersey, and they don’t appear to have a landline. I’d need the cell number of Steve’s Alpha to get those records.”

“What about the pay-” Clint started. 

“The payphone?” Tony snorted, doing something with one hand while continuing to hack into Winters’ with the other. “Dead end. Well, not a dead end so much as a very complicated end. I’d have to look up the phone records for every number that made either an incoming call to or an outgoing call from that payphone, and then collate _those_ numbers to see if they made a call to or received a call from the same number or multiple numbers within the last, say, six months, and then track _those_ number across New York. Once I had that list, I’d need to cross-check those numbers, to rule out pizza places and the like. You would be amazed at the number of phone numbers associated with that payphone. Must be located in an area with no signal or the number is really close to a number people intend to call on a regular basis. Or both. You’d think, with this being one of the last surviving pay phones in the tri-state area, that it would be less complicated. You’d be wrong.”

“Anything else on Winters?” Natasha asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Unfortunately not,” Tony said. “I’m going to keep digging. See what else is out there on him. Has to be something. Anyone planning on going out to Brooklyn and seeing how good our Capsicle’s security really is?” 

“I’ll go,” Clint said with a shrug. “Make up for losing Steve in the subway. I’ll see if I can get a picture of this Alpha of Steve’s while I’m there. See if we can learn more about him, who he is, what sort of a security risk he may be.”

“Good idea. We need him Initiative vetted before the week is out.”


	4. Chapter 3: A Walk in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Neal go for a walk around Prospect Park; or Steve's introspection.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/a0/bc/2QPNovhs_o.jpg)

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The day dawned beautiful, crisp and clear. It was sort of day when Steve would have gone to Prospect Park, back before the War, if he and Bucky hadn’t been working. It seemed that they were always working, both during the Depression and when the war effort started up, him and Bucky. Steve mentioned it to Neal over breakfast, who smiled, saying that fresh air was something that was seriously lacking at one of his former addresses. 

After breakfast, Neal called into the gallery he managed to see when they needed him. They were in between shows at the moment, taking down the previous show and putting up the upcoming one. As such, his hours were incredibly variable. Today, though, they were in luck - unless he had to come to the gallery to sign for something (which had happened), he was free for the day. With no planned deliveries and him being unable to lay out the show until everything arrived, there was nothing that he needed to do at the gallery. Knowing that they were free for the day, they made plans to go to Prospect Park. 

It was early yet, and Steve wanted to walk the trails around the park after lunch, so they took a chance to laze around the townhouse in their pajamas and relax with each other, something they hadn’t had much of a chance to do, with Steve getting up early and going for a run before heading to the Tower in Manhattan to do his job as an Avenger. Steve settled onto the couch with his tablet, and was soon joined by Neal, who snuggled into his side with a pulp novel. After a bit, Neal rearranged himself, propping his head on a pillow in Steve’s lap, and pressing Steve’s hand to his stomach. He rested his hand on Steve’s, and simply breathed Steve in. 

Around lunchtime, they got dressed and headed to a small, family run Italian restaurant that reminded Steve of food he’d had in Italy. They did not usually do takeaway orders, as they ran a quick lunch and wanted their customers to enjoy a long dinner with no feeling of being rushed. Since Neal had long before sweet-talked them into letting him get takeaway lunches, the plan was to get their lunch, head over to the park, and find a bench to sit and people watch while eating, before wandering a few of the walking trails. 

Just before they left, standing in the small entranceway to their townhouse where they kept muddy shoes and keys, Neal hesitantly asked Steve he could scent him before they went for their walk. Steve had always been grateful that Neal’s subtle Alpha pheromones smelled like a mixture of oil paint and coffee, something that the Avengers had never questioned him smelling like, so he hadn’t had to have been as vigilant about making sure to wash Neal’s scent off of him. Long hugs and Neal rubbing his face against Steve’s neck were usually enough to satisfy his Alpha. Sometimes, though, Neal needed to rub his scent all over Steve, especially if Steve had been injured while fighting with the Avengers or if he was close to going into his Rut cycle. 

After he’d gotten to Brooklyn, emotional over what had happened in the Tower, after handing Neal the small silk jeweler’s bag that held their rings, Neal had scented him _thoroughly_, making Steve smell like him, making him smell like home. Today, Steve smiled back at Neal, and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pressing his lips to Neal’s. He pulled Neal against him, sliding his hands into his back pockets, as they made out in the hallway. Neal wrapped his arms tightly around Steve and melted into their kisses, his oil paint and coffee scent getting stronger and stronger. Steve pulled Neal’s hips against his and thought about picking his Alpha up and carrying him to the bedroom for a more thorough scenting, but his stomach growled and reminded them both that it was lunch time. 

Laughing, Neal pulled away slightly, enough to press his forehead against the juncture of Steve’s neck and shoulders, rubbing against the scent glands, releasing the barest hint of Steve's cinnamon apple and aged leather pheromones. He pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and started to untangle himself, murmuring something about “later.” Steve pouted, but grabbed his baseball cap and sunglasses from the side table as Neal grabbed his sunglasses, keys, and fedora. They walked the few blocks to the Italian restaurant, ordering their lunch to go, and wandered over to the Grand Army Plaza corner of Prospect Park, looking for a bench. 

After finding a good place to eat their lunch, they sat down and opened up the plastic containers full of pasta, digging in with gusto. Steve had opted for an easy penne pasta with tomato sauce and meatballs, while Neal had gone for a fancier fettuccine pasta in an alfredo sauce with chicken, Neal delicately twirling his pasta as he ate. They talked about the more mundane aspects of their lives, things Steve would have missed living primarily in the Tower (Neal was experimenting by using a new type of flour in his baking), and things Neal wouldn’t have been a part of since he wasn’t an Avenger (Tony falling asleep in the middle of his spaghetti after the last Avengers call out). 

After finishing their lunch, they disposed of their trash, and wandered through the park, arm-in-arm, Neal remarking that he liked Prospect Park a lot more since they’d gotten rid of the cars full-time, making it more pedestrian friendly. He said that he’d taken to running the Park when he couldn’t sleep shortly after “The Event” and it was now a much nicer a run. 

They left the Grand Army Plaza area, and headed in a counterclockwise direction through the park, wandering down West Drive and taking their time as they walked. Neal kept bumping Steve with his hip, and smiling up at him, as if he couldn’t believe that Steve was there with him. They stopped to take pictures at Meadowport Arch, and continued on the Litchfield Villa, where Neal waxed poetic about the Italianate mansion, pointing out the distinctive features of the style, and how it was considered one of the best surviving exemplars of the style as designed by Alexander Jefferson Davis, before lamenting that the renovation of the villa led to the loss of some of the original stucco and murals. 

They continued on past the neoclassical Tennis House, and the Bandshell, which Steve remembered being built even though he never got to see a show there, before wandering towards the private Friends Cemetery, and taking pictures at Lookout Hill. Steve was surprised to learn that the Well House had been renovated and now contained composting toilets, something that the park had sorely needed back when Steve was little. After that, they continued along Well House Drive in the direction of the Maryland Monument, and over the Terrace Bridge. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Neal was dragging a bit by the time they got to the Prospect Park Concert Grove Pavilion, so he suggested that Steve run the loop around Prospect Park Lake, while he took a short rest. 

“You feeling okay?” Steve asked as Neal found a bench and sat down. Neal nodded, pulling a small sketchbook and a pen from his pocket. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired, didn’t sleep well last night. My Rut’s due soon, and I never sleep well then.” He waved as Steve to start his run before opening the sketchbook and starting a new drawing. 

Attempting to avoid detection, Steve didn’t run at his top speed as he jogged through the more populated area around the Pavilion, speeding up to his top speed when he was alone along the back side of the lake. He had to pay attention to everyone he saw around the lake, making sure that he was jogging at a reasonable speed when they could see him while also sprinting when he could. He saw several people slacklining and doing parkour. He laughed to himself as he thought of Scott and Clint’s reactions should he suggest that they add slacklining and parkour to their regular practice sessions, which seemed to be the sort of thing they would like. He blew a kiss at a distracted Neal as he completed his first loop of the lake and amused himself by how his teammates would do with parkour and slacklining. 

Clint would probably be the best at parkour, he decided, laughing to himself as he pictured Clint on a slackline. Grinning, he thought about how the only sniper besides Bucky he trusted to watch his back was perhaps the best marksman on the planet, but also drank coffee straight from the pot if Steve let him and tripped going up the stairs. Clint had done the aerial silks when he was a circus performer, and was the only other Avenger capable of throwing Steve’s shield like he did, so he might be good on a slackline, having the necessary core strength.

Nat would probably be the best at slacklining, putting what Tony called her ninja skills to work. He’d seen her in her Natalie Rushman persona at an SI gala, carrying a tray of crystal champagne flutes through a crowded ballroom in dangerously high and spiky heels, the liquid not moving at all as she moved through the room, something that took a combination of strength, balance, and flexibility. She’d be good at parkour, he knew, with her ability to leap off of other objects (like his shield) in their fights. 

Iron Man would be great at parkour but not at slacklining, and Tony would probably be decent at both. The suit would be too heavy and unwieldy for proper slacklining, though Steve wondered what sort of mobility the suit had, in the event that Tony ended up grounded during a fight, or if he could even get it off in an emergency without J.A.R.V.I.S. Perhaps having a de-powered Iron Man slackline would be a good training exercise, as long as Tony was well-padded within it. 

Sam would be good at parkour, and had the calmness necessary to be successful on a slackline. Bruce had the patience to succeed at slacklining and enough experience living under the radar to be good at parkour, but he would respectfully abstain from both training exercises, pointing out that the Hulk wouldn’t be very good company for that. Thor would find the idea amusing, and remind everyone that he could fly. He’d do both of them as training exercises, laughing the entire time, no matter how many times he fell off the slackline. 

Bucky would love parkour, and his arm would give him a distinct advantage. He would hate the slackline, since his balance was still off, something he was working on improving. HYDRA hadn’t found it necessary to make sure that their asset had had proper balance with the heavy metal arm, since they usually used him for shock and awe situations. Bucky had taken up yoga on Bruce’s suggestion, working with Natasha to improve his balance, so perhaps slacklining would be a good addition to his training routine. 

Steve knew that Scott was a former cat burglar, and that convinced him he’d be pretty good at both, putting his skills to good use, though Steve suspected that he’d be better at parkour. Pietro would be too fast for both for both of them, attempting to use his superspeed instead of balance, something that could be part of his training. Wanda would be decent at both, as her grace, balance, flexibility, and strength would help her. 

He blew another kiss at Neal as he made his second pass, mind made up to ask Tony to set up a slackline in the training room, along with a high line and a parkour course. More training was always a good thing, after all, and both slacklining and parkour were similar to things that they might have to do during an Assembly call, he knew, thinking about a catwalk and a leap of faith. 

Neal was still distracted with his sketching when he finished his third lap, so Steve blew him another kiss and started on his fourth lap. He missed training with the Avengers, something he didn’t expect when he left the Tower. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Neal, he missed his team and their antics. Perhaps he could have done things better, he thought as he approached the pavilion again. Perhaps he shouldn’t have kept Neal a secret, trusting the Avengers with his past. Like Neal, Scott was a former cat burglar, and he’d quickly been accepted by the team, the goofy Alpha the only person who could keep up with Tony on engineering projects. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stormed out of the Tower when Bucky asked a perfectly reasonable question about Steve and an unknown Alpha, staying instead to explain who he was and why he was important to him. Bucky hadn’t known about their relationship, and seeing Steve with an Alpha would have worried his best friend, regardless of who the Alpha was. Staying to explain why he’d kept his relationship a secret, which was, he realized now, something he didn’t have a good reason for. Steve shook his head as he ran - he was considered one of the best tactical minds alive and yet he hadn’t seen this one coming. The die was cast, and there was no putting this cat back in the bag, so Steve had to live with his decision, as bad as it was in retrospect. 

Finished with his introspection, when he approached the pavilion again, Steve settled down next to Neal, and kissed the side of his neck, quickly distracting him from his drawing. Neal leaned back against him, eyes closed and relaxed. 

“Feeling better?” Steve asked after a few minutes of sitting there and breathing Neal in. Neal’s Alpha pheromones of oil paint and coffee were slightly stronger than usual, and his skin felt warm against Steve’s lips, the only signs that he would be in full Rut in a day or so. 

“Yeah, a bit. I’ll feel better once my Rut is over.” Neal groaned as he got to his feet, sketchbook going into his pocket. “Let’s finish the loop back to the Grand Army Plaza and then head home?”

“Feeling a bit territorial?” Steve asked with a grin, pressing another kiss to the back of Neal’s neck. 

“Maybe?” Neal shrugged, leaning into the kiss. “This early in my Rut it’s hard to tell if I’m feeling territorial, horny, or queasy. It’s a very interesting feeling.” He shifted in Steve’s embrace, pressing a kiss against Steve’s lips with a smile. Steve pressed his tongue against the seam of Neal’s lips, and they deepened the kiss. 

“We have to stop,” Steve said after a time simultaneously too long and too short. Neal grinned and pressed a kiss to Steve’s neck. Any other week, Neal would have been pulling away from Steve after a few kisses, before it could get too heavy, but during the week leading up to his Rut, he was into more public displays of affection, proving his “claim” on Steve. 

“Let’s finish our walk around the park, cool down a bit, then head home and pick up where we left off?” Neal said with a dirty smile. Steve nodded, pressing a last kiss to Neal’s hair before stepping back and taking his hand. 

They wandered up East Drive towards the boathouse hand-in-hand, Steve rubbing circles with his thumb against Neal’s hand. They wandered past the Cleft Ridge Span, seeing if there were any local musicians busking in the street, before continuing on to the boathouse. There, Neal made an off-hand comment about how he would have loved it if he could have gotten married at a place like the boathouse, and Steve almost broke down when apologizing. 

“I’m so sorry, Neal,” Steve said, wrapping the smaller man into a tight hug, his cinnamon apple, and aged leather pheromones spiking in sadness. It was instinctual for an Omega for their pheromones to spike in an attempt to smooth ruffled feathers whenever they made their Alpha sad. “It’s my fault.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I agreed to everything, Steve.” Neal’s voice was muffled from where he was smushed against Steve’s shoulder, his oil paint and coffee pheromones rising in response to Steve’s distress. “I have my own reasons to stay hidden, to stay away from your team and away from my friends. God, I haven’t seen Mozzie since we bought our townhouse. Earlier, when we shared your Heat, we talked. I learned about the threats against those attached to the Avengers, about how careful they had to be, how they needed security to do things like go shopping, how they couldn’t take the subway by themselves. You learned about the Pink Panthers. And I agreed, Steve. I agreed to the life we live. And if that doesn’t include a wedding at a place like the boathouse, well, I’d rather my life with you. I’d take it a million times over.”

Steve hugged Neal to him with a force more appropriate for a supersoldier or an alien god, hard enough that Neal had to break the tender moment with a “can’t breathe,” forcing Steve to relax his grip. Steve kept his arms around Neal, and tried to hide the tears in his eyes as he rested his forehead against Neal’s. After far too short a time, he felt Neal go still, his breath hitch. 

“What is it?” 

“We’re being followed.” Neal pressed his hands against Steve’s back, clutching him to him. “Let’s split up, drop our tails, and meet back up at the gallery.”


	5. Chapter 4: Yellow Origami Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers discuss their first impressions of Neal.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/4c/f4/vVfEzJm1_o.jpg)

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They were lucky, Clint knew as he took a seat at the table in the conference room of the Tower. Tony was standing at the podium near the head of the table, looking at the rest of the Avengers, specifically Clint and Natasha. The yellow folded flower Steve’s Alpha had left in Natasha’s pocket rested innocuously on the table, looking for all the world like an origami flower. Clint stared at it, trying to figure out how the Alpha had managed to get it into Natasha’s pocket without her noticing. Even _he_ couldn’t do that. 

“What happened out there?” Tony started with. “We knew where they were and we know where they live. How did that happen?” Tony gestured to the flower on the table. He and Bucky had both stated earlier that it had a slight lingering scent of pre-Rut Alpha, along with a combination of oil paint, coffee, apple pie, and leather pheromones. The two Omegas had different reactions to the hint of Alpha - Tony had sneezed when smelling the origami flower and Bucky had muttered that the combination was a good one. While all the Avengers knew that Steve smelled like baseball and apple pie like the all-American boy he was, they weren’t sure if the oil paint and coffee scent came from the unknown, pre-Rut Alpha, or if Steve recently had been dabbling in oil paints again. 

“I think Steve’s Alpha came out of the Red Room or was trained by HYDRA,” Natasha said after a moment. She looked scared. It took a lot to scare the Black Widow, and Steve’s Alpha shouldn’t scare her. 

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Clint said, leaning forward. “See if we can see what she saw.” Whatever Nat saw that scared her, Clint clearly hadn’t seen it. Physically, she was completely unharmed, and there was no trace of the unknown Alpha on her, not even his scent. Just the yellow origami flower in her pocket.

“Good idea,” Tony said, tapping something on his tablet. A photo of Steve and his Alpha appeared on the screen, attached to an Instagram account that was full of Alpha and Omega couples in various stages of public displays of affection in Prospect Park. Steve’s was captioned with "_hottie couple were making out so hard, I could smell them as I walked past. #AlphaAndOmega #getaroom #NOPDAinProspectPark_." It was the first image of Steve’s Alpha anyone had seen, and only the second time Bucky had seen the man. Steve was in dark black jeans and lightweight dark blue zip-up hoodie with a dark blue ball cap, and his Alpha was wearing a medium gray suit, with a dark blue dress shirt. No tie was visible, but he had a black fedora perched cockily on his dark hair. He was making out with Steve, embracing the larger Omega with a gentleness obvious even in the Instagram post. 

Bucky started the debrief with some amount of disbelief. “We recognized Steve in this Instagram post, even if the poster did not. J.A.R.V.I.S. said that there were no other photographs of Stevie and this Alpha at Prospect Park, so it looks like they’re flying under the radar. At least, as far as Stevie being Cap. I said that the Alpha he’s embracing looked like the Alpha I saw with Steve, and we decided to see if we could learn the identity of Steve’s Alpha.”

“Nat and I caught up to them at the Boathouse in Prospect Park,” Clint started. “I was planning to directly approach them, but they were clearly having a moment, and I didn’t want to interrupt. It seems that the Alpha noticed that we were nearby, that we were watching him, because he said something to Steve, kissed him, and they walked off in separate directions, Steve towards the Grand Army Plaza, while the Alpha retraced their steps back towards the Pavilion.”

“Clint and I separated to keep track of them. I took the Alpha, as he was, and still is, an unknown quantity.” Natasha took up the narration. “He led me through the Park and into Flatbush. He ducked into the Parkside Avenue subway station, and got on the Q Train in the direction of Coney Island. I got on in the same compartment, and kept an eye on him. He didn’t appear to notice me, nor did he appear worried or even nervous. He got off a few stops later, at the Avenue Q station, and walked through Midwood in the direction of the Flatbush Avenue/Brooklyn College station. I lost him for a second - we were separated when he crossed the street against the light - and stopped after crossing to see if he’d ducked into a store front or into an alley, when someone bumped me. I got the sense of male, Alpha, and nearing Rut. After carefully watching the direction the Alpha had been heading and finding nothing, I resumed my search for the Alpha, but didn’t find him.”

Everyone looked at Natasha, who was paler than usual, looking worried. “It was only after I realized that he’d given me the slip that I realized the person who bumped into me had put something in my pocket. I checked everything I had in my pockets, and nothing else seems to have been tampered with. The Alpha who bumped into me must have left that as a message.”

“Do any assassins that we know of leave yellow origami flowers?” Bucky asked Stark, who shook his head. 

“None. It’s not a calling card that J.A.R.V.I.S. can find, origami like that.” 

“What about the pheromones? Natasha said the Alpha who left that was nearing Rut, right?” Clint pointed out. He pointed to the origami flower. 

“We already figured out that our HubCap is a low-drive Alpha,” Tony said with a shake of his head, “and there’s not enough here to get a strong scent. Hell, he _bumped into Natasha_ and she didn’t get much of an impression of his pheromones. Plus ‘oil paint and coffee’ is too generic of a scent, even for J.A.R.V.I.S.” 

“So all we know is that Steve’s mystery Alpha is not only capable of dropping the Black Widow when she’s tailing him, but also doesn’t have a very strong scent. At least not one that is strong enough to be identifiable.” Bucky looked pained. This was his best friend’s Alpha, _this was Captain America_’s Alpha, and they didn’t know his scent. Or even his name.

“What about you, Clint? Did you have any more success?” Bucky asked after a moment of contemplation. Clint shook his head

“I followed Steve past the Grand Army Plaza and into Park Slope proper. He didn’t lead me in the direction of either the subway station or the brownstone that we know about, but wandered slowly through the neighborhood.” Clint looked briefly annoyed. “He knew I was the one following him, and didn’t seem worried at all. Took a meandering route to an art gallery in Park Slope. It’s one of the places his phone’s location data shows him going to fairly regularly, so it’s important to him or his Alpha.”

“Anything special about the gallery?” Tony asked, already pulling up the tracking data and tapping on it. 

“Not that I could tell. They looked to be in between shows.” Clint paused, taking a deep breath. “Steve waited for me, unlocked the gallery, and invited me in for coffee. I didn’t notice a strong scent at all. Whole place reeked of paint and paint thinner, so I’m not sure I would have noticed, even if I wasn’t a Beta.”

“What was the point?” Tony asked the room at large with an exasperated sigh. “What did our HubCap gain from dropping an origami flower into Natasha’s pocket? What could Cap have gained from leading you straight to an art gallery that likely has importance to his Alpha?”

“It could be as simple as they know we’re watching them,” Clint offered, though he didn’t look as though he agreed with that.

“I think you’re on the right track, but I think they had different motives,” Bucky said. “Stevie wanted to show you something important to him, something important to his Alpha. He knew you were following him, and he wanted you to know he knew you were following him. His Alpha… His Alpha might not have recognized Natasha. He doesn’t know who’s following him, so he makes sure the person knows he knew he was being followed.”

“That’s remarkably observant,” Tony said.

“If the Alpha was close enough to put a flower in her pocket, he was more than close enough for a contact poison or a knife through the ribs,” Bucky reminded them. “He didn’t do either of those things. That was clearly a warning, though I’m not sure what he was warning us about.”


	6. Chapter 5: pheromones saturating their bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal goes into Rut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some (completely unnecessary for the plot) Rut-porn.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/42/93/7AnbWnZJ_o.jpg)

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The next day, Steve slowly woke up to the scent of Neal in full Rut, his strong, bitter coffee and oil paint pheromones saturating their bedroom. Despite the strength of his pheromones, his side of their California King bed was cold. Steve sighed, stretching his shoulders as he listened for his Mate, who he knew couldn’t have gone far. He heard a cutoff moan - muffled as though Neal didn’t want to wake him up and the slight splashing of water in the ensuite bathroom. With a smile, Steve slipped out of bed. He pulled his shirt off as he passed the laundry hamper, leaving himself in his in a pair of well worn, low slung sleep pants. He rubbed his face as he leaned against the doorframe, watching Neal with an admittedly sappy expression. 

His Mate was sprawled in their bathtub, which was big enough to comfortably fit both of them, his left hand gripping the side of the tub, his right hand hidden beneath the bubbles. Eyes closed, his head lolled against the ceramic, his back bowed, his breath coming in short bursts. With a sound that was a cross between a suppressed moan and a sigh, he went limp, body relaxing completely. He opened his eyes, turning his head to smirk up at Steve. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Steve asked dryly. 

“View’s pretty good.” Neal shifted in the tub, bringing his hand out of the water and running it through his hair. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept at all. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than you, I’d expect,” Steve said, taking a careful seat on the edge of the tub and taking Neal’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Besides the obvious?” Neal huffed a laugh. “Not too bad, overall. Slept like shit and woke up with a painful knot, so there’s that.” Neal shifted so he could lean against Steve, breathing in his cinnamon apple and aged leather pheromones. He ran his nose along the scent gland on Steve’s wrist, strengthening Steve’s all-American scent. It was similar to something he would do during a full scenting, drawing up Steve’s scent and mingling it with his. 

“Well, I can do something about that painful knot,” Steve rested his chin against the top of Neal’s head. The positioning was awkward, with Steve sitting on the rim of the tub, but Neal liked it. He leaned further into Steve, who shifted so he could wrap an arm around his shoulders. 

“Give me a few minutes, finish off this round. Then I need a shower, I feel like I’m covered in come.” Neal made a face as he said that. 

“Most Alphas wouldn’t have a problem with that, you know,” Steve said, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Yeah, I’m not one of those Alphas.” Neal wrinkled his nose, dropping his hand below the water with a sharp inhale, tension returning to his shoulders. “It’s not as good as the real thing, but I’m glad Alpha sex toys are a thing.” Steve pressed a kiss to his shoulder, holding him tighter against him, enveloping him in his scent, as Neal worked himself through his last climax of this round of his Rut. 

“At least this will be over soon,” Neal said with a sigh after coming. “I don’t like Rut.” He shifted, sliding Steve’s arms off of his shoulders, and stood. Steve reached into the water and pulled the plug from the drain, pulling the switch to change the water from the faucet to the shower head, even as Neal started the water. They’d done this before, several times, during Neal’s “microruts,” the medical term for 12-24 hour Ruts where the Alpha keeps their awareness of the world.

Steve took a look at the sex toy Neal had mentioned. It was small, and rested over his knot at the base of his dick. Steve knew it was the that Alpha equivalent of the knotting dildos marketed to Omegas - something the mimicked the feeling of being knotted or tied. Neal’s was a discrete black, though Steve imagined they came in all colors.

With a sigh, Neal removed the toy, sliding it down his dick and dropping it gently into the quickly draining tub. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo, and lathered up his hair, cleaning the sweat from his hair, before rinsing quickly. He forwent his usual conditioner, instead grabbing a bar of soap and cleaning himself with perfunctory movements, not lingering anywhere. Once clean, he lingered under the warm spray for a bit, letting himself relax. 

While he would have liked to step into the shower with him, Steve knew that Neal didn’t want that during his Ruts (they’d tried it once and Neal had knotted Steve in the shower, which was not an experience they were very interested in repeating anytime soon). Steve handed him a towel when he turned off the water, pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, and stepped back into their bedroom. He pulled a box of Alpha condoms and a bottle of lube from the bedside table, stripped his pajama pants and underwear off, and relaxed on his back on the bed, ready for his Alpha. He wasn’t in Heat, so he wasn’t dripping wet and open, but he’d be ready for Neal’s knot with only a bit of prep. 

Seconds later, Neal stepped into their bedroom, smiled at Steve, and pounced. Almost literally, landing in the vee of Steve’s spread legs, letting Steve support him. He was already hard and leaking, the beginnings of his knot was visible against his erect dick. He kissed Steve clumsily, bracing himself with one hand and running the other through Steve’s hair. Steve slid one hand around his waist, and the other into his hair, guiding without controlling. They made out for a few heartbeats, until Neal pulled away with a sound that was all Alpha growl. Steve smiled up at him, and let Neal flip them over, so Steve was on top. 

“Let’s get you ready, so I can knot you,” Neal said, running his hands down Steve’s sides and grabbing his ass. He ran his fingers along Steve’s hole, feeling the Omega lubricant already getting to work in response to his Rut hormones. Steve wasn’t going to go into sympathy Heat (Omega’s didn’t for Microruts), but Omega’s could always take an Alpha’s knot, Heat or no Heat. Careful rubbing of his fingers found one of Steve’s lubricant glands, which released a small amount of slick, helping loosen and slick Steve up for out-of-Heat knotting. A conscientious Alpha, Neal found the bottle of lube and used a copious amount, checking to make sure that Steve could take his knot. Convinced that Steve was slick and open enough, he grabbed a condom, rolled it on, and helped Steve slide down his dick. They both moaned. 

Steve fucked himself on Neal’s dick, feeling his knot. When he was sure he was ready for it, he worked it into his welcoming body, feeling himself clamp down on it, triggering Neal’s orgasm as his knot blew. Reaching between them, Steve gripped his own dick, stroking himself quickly to his own orgasm, locking them together. 

Neal slowly came down from the feeling of knotting his Omega, his breathing slowing and letting himself relax. Steve kissed him breathless, working them both through the extended climax that was knotting. When Neal’s knot went down, he pulled out, disposed of the condom, and they made out until the next round of Rut.


	7. Chapter 6 : The Brooklyn Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Neal enjoy a trip to the Brooklyn Museum

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/d5/78/hQSFmylB_o.jpg)

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A few days after Neal’s Rut was over, Steve was beginning to go a bit stir crazy, since Neal had given into his Alpha instincts and refused to let Steve go running by himself since his Rut had fully started. Despite being stronger than he looked and a good long-distance runner, Neal couldn’t keep up with Steve at his full speed and distance, so they’d been jogging Neal’s loop around Park Slope. It had happened before - Neal getting extra possessive of Steve for a few days after his Rut ended, but this was stronger than usual. Steve was sure that some of that odd possessiveness came from the fact that the Avengers had followed them around Brooklyn just before Neal’s Rut, putting potential rivals within his territory. Steve hoped he didn’t have to learn what would have happened if Clint had been an Alpha instead of a Beta, since Steve had brought Clint into Neal’s territory, into the gallery. Luckily, Clint was Clint and Neal wasn’t a very territorial Alpha when he wasn’t in Rut.

It wasn’t a nice day out, dark and stormy, and a bit chilly, but Steve wanted to get out of the brownstone and go for a walk or a run. Neal grumbled about going for a run in the rain, but understood why Steve wanted to get out of the house for a bit. Maybe in a day or two, Neal would feel comfortable letting Steve get up and go for a long, early run, once his hormones had completely settled back to his baseline levels. Snuggled up on the couch in their pajamas, they pulled out their phones and started searching for places to go that would be mostly indoors, but have space for a long walk (Neal had vehemently shot down Steve’s suggestion that they go to the Ikea store in Brooklyn). After some searching, Steve found the Brooklyn Museum’s website, and thought the place looked interesting. He’d been there when he was little, but he hadn’t had a chance to visit since he was defrosted, despite being a member. When S.H.I.E.L.D. had set up his identity in this strange future, they’d given him a membership card, and he’d kept it up, hoping to go there one day, as odd as it would be without Bucky. It had been hard enough to go to the Smithsonian Museums when he’d been in DC, despite not having been to any of them with Bucky. 

The museum didn’t open until 11 AM, and it wasn’t a nice enough day to enjoy a stroll through Prospect Park, so they made a relaxed brunch and enjoyed it in their window seat/breakfast nook. The townhouse didn’t originally have one, but Steve had worked with some contractors to create the nook, expanding the window sill to be large enough for both of them to sit on, while not taking too much space from the rest of the room. It was full of throw pillows and blankets, and was a comfortable place to relax with a cup of tea and a book or have breakfast. Steve pulled over the small, moveable, kitchen island for them to use as a table while Neal carried their plates. 

After a leisurely breakfast of homemade pancakes, fried eggs and bacon, they cleaned the kitchen, and got dressed. Neal scented Steve before they left, lips lingering against Steve’s scent glands for a few heartbeats before he pulled away. They gathered their wallets, keys, and sunglasses from the small table in their narrow entranceway, Steve stealing a kiss before sliding on his baseball cap and leather jacket. Neal smiled as he tilted his fedora rakishly, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek as he grabbed an umbrella.

Normally, they’d stroll leisurely through Park Slope to Prospect Park, taking their time and enjoying the chance to be outside with each other. Today, it wasn’t a day to linger outside, since it was chilly and rainy, with a nice breeze, as well. Steve wrapped his arm around Neal’s shoulders and took the umbrella, protecting them both from the rain. They walked quickly, getting to the Brooklyn Museum shortly after it opened. 

After collecting their tickets, Steve and Neal stood just inside the main entrance to the museum, watching the ebb and flow of other Brooklynites having the same idea of visiting the museum on a cold and rainy day, discussing how things had changed since the last time Steve had been there. Steve had fond memories of the museum from before the war, saying that he and Bucky “took art classes from both the Brooklyn Museum Art School and the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences, when we could afford it. Those classes helped me pay my half of the rent, since my scoliosis and asthma kept me from working at the docks or in a factory. I wonder what became of some of my class work and early sketches. They’d be worth a mint by this point.” He gently elbowed Neal, his eyes sparkling with laughter. 

Neal huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “No one ever mentioned even rumors about your art being found, at least that I’ve heard about. Mozzie might have heard about it, but even he wouldn’t have put much stock in it. If they’d found your early sketches, I would have been the go-to guy for that sort of thing. Allegedly.” He winked at Steve, who smiled ruefully.

“It’s so strange, being back here.” Steve looked around the lobby, taking everything in. “So much has changed, but so little has changed. At least the Brooklyn Museum isn’t going to have a display about my life. That was… that was interesting, seeing my life, Bucky’s life, the Commandos, at the Smithsonian. It would have been easier, seeing the exhibit with someone who knew us, but the exhibit was taken down before Bucky recovered enough for us to go together. I never learned why the exhibit was at Udvar-Hazy Center, instead of the National Museum of American History.” He shook his head, and with a forced amount of charm, asked Neal about his first visit to an art museum. 

“My first visit to an art museum? Hm… It must have been that class trip to the Saint Louis Art Museum. I would have been… 7? 8? 9?… something like that. I was fascinated. Made me want to learn how to draw, how to paint like the masters I saw. I always wonder what life would be life if we hadn’t been living under Witness Protection, had I become a painter, perhaps a restorer.” He paused, considering something. “Your exhibit was probably at Udvar-Hazy because the American History museum doesn’t have as much large exhibit space. Air and Space also has the most large theatres, for their IMAX shows and things. That could be why - the extra exhibit space and the theatre at Udvar-Hazy. Still odd, though. I’m going to go check our umbrella.” He walked towards the coat check.

Returning, he tucked the slip in his pocket and offered Steve his arm as they walked into the permanent collection area, looking for a few specific artifacts and paintings. Neal was the most interested in the European Collection, curious to see what the museum held in from the late gothic, the early Italian Renaissance, and 19th century France, from artists like Lorenzo di Niccolo, Edgar Degas, and Claude Monet. Neal murmured to Steve that he’d been in possession of some Degases and Monets in the past and explained what pieces might not have been an original, and where the original could be found.

They took their time wandering through the Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Collection, glad to see that the Brooklyn Papyrus was on display, since it was usually locked in the vault found in the Archives. They studied the Papyrus, talking about the writing and discussing how scientifically advanced the Ancient Egyptians had been in identifying venomous snakes and treating their bites. After they finished the Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Collection, they went through the American Collection. Steve was most interested in seeing the Georgia O'Keeffe paintings and Gilbert Stuart’s portrait of George Washington, while Neal was the most interested in the John Singer Sargent portraits and the John James Audubon lithographs. 

Finished with the American Collection, they went to the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art. Steve was particularly interested in Judy Chicago’s chef d’oeuvre, _The Dinner Party_, spending the next few minutes examining every aspect of the place settings.

After Steve was finished with the installation, despite not having gone to the special exhibit, he and Neal decided to call it a day. Steve said that he’d love to come back to the Brooklyn Museum at a later date, to go to the Arts of Africa, Arts of the Pacific Islands, Arts of the Islamic World collections, and the special exhibit, if it was still up. They collected their umbrella from the coat check, and walked to a small diner hand in hand, discussing what they’d seen, and if Neal would be interested in possibly going back to the museum after their mid-afternoon snack to see the special exhibit and perhaps another collection. The rain had stopped, making a walk through Prospect Park a possibility. 

The diner was one Steve remembered going to before the war. Not very often, but when they had enough money to justify going to the diner, he and Bucky had indulged in the 30s and 40s. It hadn’t changed much, he said, except they no longer boiled everything. Once seated, Neal ordered a reuben and Steve ordered two cheeseburgers. They lingered over their food, Steve finishing the last few bites of Neal’s reuben, before paying their bill, leaving a tip for the waitress, and walking back to their apartment arm in arm. Despite Steve being Steve and Neal being Neal, they both failed to notice that they were being tailed by Natasha, who took pictures of them together, managing to get several photographs of Neal’s face.


	8. Chapter 7 : Who is Neal Caffrey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He was listed, in bright red letters stamped diagonally across the headshots and mugshots that were a perfect match to the smiling man Bucky had seen embracing Steve just a few weeks earlier, a perfect match to the Alpha that the team has seen embracing Steve in the semi-viral Instagram post, a perfect match to the the Alpha that Natasha had followed through a busy New York City street before losing him in a crowd, as “DECEASED.”"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor cameo by June.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/64/1c/XhI1whCv_o.jpg)

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The first Sunday dinner that Steve missed was odd. Every Sunday evening, all of the on-planet Avengers gather together at the Tower for dinner. Partners and friends were invited, with Jane and Darcy regularly coming to dinner, even when Thor was off-world. Instead of ordering delivery, the Avengers usually cooked, rotating who cooked and who cleaned, though Steve and Bucky tended to clean up, since the only things Steve could make with any sort of accuracy were pancakes and oatmeal. Even though he rarely cooked, Steve was a presence in the kitchen, manning the sink with his usual cheer, or frying up pancakes and eggs when they needed comfort breakfast food for dinner. 

That day, everyone but Wanda and Pietro wandered into the kitchen, ready to start preparing dinner. There was a black cloud over the Avengers, enough of one that Scott Lang noticed, and he hadn’t been brought into the loop about Steve’s Alpha, having been in the Bay Area when the whole thing started. Watching his team bicker over who was going to wash up with Bucky, since Steve was not at the Tower, Tony said “fuck it” and called for pizza delivery. They ate their pizzas while watching a movie, something they’d bickered about until Bruce had snapped “enough” at the team, causing Clint to grab a movie blindly from the pile and pop it in. It seemed that, without Steve, they couldn’t even decide on a movie to watch. Tony wondered how they’d fair if they had an Assembly before Steve came back. Clint would have to wear the Captain America suit, as he was the only Avenger capable of throwing the shield, and Bucky would have be their eyes in the sky. People would wonder where Hawkeye was, but snipers were a dime a dozen, even ones at that level. 

With all that in mind, it was unsurprising that it took them far too long to get a usable picture of Steve’s mystery Mate, as the Alpha was strangely good at figuring out that he was being tailed or surveilled and equally good at losing a tail in a crowd. He was good enough that they had been worried that he could be a spy or something, since he was almost _professionally good_ at finding and losing tails. They started with a series of composite images taken from various CCTV footage and other things Stark and S.H.I.E.L.D. really shouldn’t have access to, but eventually, they got a bunch of useable pictures of his face when he was distracted by Steve, and Bucky and Natasha ran the best images through both Stark Industries’ human resources department background check databases and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. That’s when they discovered that they needn’t have bothered running his image through the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases, as the man had a very thick FBI file and a thicker INTERPOL file (thank you LexisNexis!), revealing him to be an Alpha who was a known white collar thief, conman, cat burglar, and forger. He was listed, in bright red letters stamped diagonally across the headshots and mugshots that were a perfect match to the smiling man Bucky had seen embracing Steve just a few weeks earlier, a perfect match to the Alpha that the team has seen embracing Steve in the semi-viral Instagram post, a perfect match to the the Alpha that Natasha had followed through a busy New York City street before losing him in a crowd, as “DECEASED.” 

Once they saw that Steve’s Alpha had been officially declared dead by the FBI, Bucky and Natasha dove as deep into his background as they could, but even with Stark and S.H.I.E.L.D. looking into his background, there was precious little available about his early life. On top of that, he was listed with two last names, and FBI file had a note that he went by his mother’s maiden name. Neal George Caffrey? Neal George Bennett? Neal George Caffrey-Bennett? Neal George Bennett-Caffrey? Regardless, Neal Caffrey appeared on the FBI’s watchlist shortly after his 18th birthday, and appeared a year or two later on INTERPOL’s watchlist. He had a list of known aliases a mile long, a rather short list of living known associates, but little to nothing was known about him until FBI Agent Peter Burke began chasing him for the bond forgery of which he was later convicted. They were impressed that he appeared to have gone to prison under what amounted to an alias.

With that in mind, J.A.R.V.I.S. started looking into his background before he came to the attention of the FBI, comparing what was in his FBI and INTERPOL files to other databases, and discovered that the reason for the oddness in his name was that he’d spent most of his early life in Witness Protection, after DC Police officer James Bennett’s partner turned state’s evidence against him, accusing him of being on the take, and further accusing him of murdering his police supervisor. Neal George Bennett, his mother, and his father’s partner had entered Witness Protection, moving to St. Louis, far away from where James Bennett was serving time in a DC prison. Tony’s eyes narrowed when he looked at the de-encrypted file, seeing what names Caffrey and his mother had lived under while living in St. Louis, before he told J.A.R.V.I.S. to lock the file to his personal server, saying that they couldn’t put Caffrey’s mother’s life in danger over whatever was going on. 

When pressed, Tony said that the US Marshals' reported the death of Bennett’s partner shortly after his escape from prison, with a note that Bennett had killed her and the two Marshals assigned to guard her, before convincing Caffrey that he was framed for murder by the Flynn Family, who were later revealed to have been working for HYDRA during the 70s and 80s. This twist eventually led to Bennett killing Senator Terrence Pratt with FBI Agent Peter Burke’s service pistol, leaving Burke to take the fall, before having a miraculous change of heart and submitting an audio confession, clearing Agent Burke of all charges. With little doubt that Bennett had committed the murder of which he was accused, and Bennett having run after murdering a US Senator, there was reason to think he might harm Caffrey’s mother, if he felt she had betrayed him by entering Witness Protection, pointing out that she was listed in her file as an SSR Agent. 

According to his multiple files, unlike most known Alpha conmen, Caffrey showed no affinity for guns or weapons of any kind, despite being an Olympic-level crack shot with a pistol. Natasha noted that Caffrey was “Barton-level good,” pointing to an FBI case file where a concussed and bleeding Caffrey had been forced to shoot another thief to save Agent Burke, the bullet missing the FBI agent by mere millimeters. Instead of violence and weaponry, Caffrey relied on his good looks, charm, and apparent ability to forge anything he could get his hands on. The list of crimes he was charged with, but later acquitted of, was a collection of various other forgeries, thefts, cons, and other assorted white collar crimes, including the theft _of a Raphael_. Natasha was impressed with the accusation, and was even more impressed that he later returned the Raphael to Stirling Bosch, the company who’d insured it. Clint was the most impressed by his aerial stunts, including when he leapt from a judge’s chambers onto a bakery awning, _base jumped_ off of a Manhattan skyscraper, leapt between the trams out to Roosevelt Island without a harness while holding the aforementioned Raphael, and used his belt to zip line between two Manhattan skyscrapers while concussed.

The Avengers task force quickly compiled a timeline of everything they could find out about Caffrey on a white board in the Avengers main operations room, with things he was rumored to have done written in blue, and the things he was known to have done written in black. With Tony’s refusal to use any of the information found in his Witness Protection file in an attempt to protect Caffrey’s still-living mother, only a handful of things were on the timeline before he appeared on the FBI’s watchlist, most of it pulled from his FBI and INTERPOL files, which Tony really wasn’t supposed to have. The FBI had chased him for several years, before he was caught and convicted of bond forgery, and sentenced to four years in prison. 

With three months left on his four-year sentence, Caffrey escaped from the maximum security prison where he was serving out his sentence, only to be returned by FBI Agent Peter Burke, the same agent who’d arrested him almost 5 years earlier. Shortly after that second arrest, on the day he would have been released from his original four-year sentence, Caffrey was released as an FBI informant and consultant on an electronic monitoring and tracking anklet, with Agent Burke legally responsible for him for the remainder of his new, second, four-year sentence. Agent Burke’s close rate for the newly created White Collar Taskforce skyrocketed, though Natasha, Clint, and Bucky could read between the lines and see that Caffrey had been allowed to do things that were flagrantly illegal to secure convictions, up to and including impersonating an FBI agent.

It was on his last assignment, working with the FBI and an INTERPOL informant to take down the infamous Pink Panthers from the inside, that he’d been killed. His death certificate listed a gunshot wound to the abdomen as his cause of death, and the coroner’s notes listed Agent Burke as the person who ID’ed his body. A call from Maria Hill, claiming that Stark Industries Security was curious about how an apparent dead man had turned up during an internal investigation of potential corporate espionage, to this Agent Burke confirmed that there was no way that Caffrey could have faked his death. 

Despite being convinced that Caffrey was not involved, Agent Burke’s probationary agent handed over everything he had on Caffrey, files that dated back almost twenty years at this point. While investigating the files, the Avengers realized that at no point did Agent Burke, the US Marshals, or anyone else ever record what Caffrey’s Alpha pheromones smelled like. Considering that he’d lived within Witness Protection for most of his early life, and then did undercover work for the FBI, it was unsurprising. At the very bottom of the box, there was a handwritten note, saying that Agent Burke wanted to meet with anyone involved in this SI internal investigation, as he had information that was not in the files, official or unofficial. A meeting was quickly and quietly set up between Pepper Potts' PA Natalie Rushman, Stark Industries Head of Security Maria Hill, and Agent Burke. 

While working for the FBI, Caffrey’s address had been listed as a mansion in Riverside Park, owned by one June Ellington, the widow of a Byron Ellington, who’d been a conman himself, as well as a convicted bank robber. Bucky wondered who had conned who, back when Caffrey had made whatever deal he’d made to live with Ms. Ellington, since she was listed as a suspected accomplice and driver on several of her late husband’s crimes. As the least intimidating and recognizable member of the Avengers, Clint was sent to check out the house, but saw nothing out of the ordinary on the outside. He’d been spotted by Ms. Ellington, and invited in for coffee on the terrace. 

During his debrief, Clint told Bucky and Natasha how the loft apartment was completely set up, and that Ms. Ellington had been open about the fact that she was mourning the man who used to live there, saying that that he reminded her of her late husband, Byron. He’d had elegant manners, a refined palate, enjoyed being her escort to social events, and was an excellent dancer, she’d apparently said. At that point in the debrief, Clint wondered aloud if she was intimating that they had been lovers, or if he was simply reading too much into the situation. He did confirm that, if she knew Caffrey was still alive, she was either the best actress he’d ever seen, in on the con, or both. Given Agent Burke’s report on Caffrey’s death, they suspected that only a handful of people know he was alive, and one of them was Steve. If Steve knew who his Mate really was. 

Agent Burke came to Stark Tower with a bankers box full of memories of Neal Caffrey not found in his files. The remarkably unassuming Beta was wearing a red and gold striped rugby shirt and faded blue jeans, much more casual than the suits he wore as an FBI agent. During his meeting with Natasha, Clint, Hill, and Bucky, he said that everything he couldn’t explain about Caffrey went into the box. This included the birthday cards Caffrey had sent him, both before and while he was in prison. He also had a handful of papers that an agent of his had pulled from a storage container shortly after Caffrey’s apparent death. 

“It was basically a ‘how to’ manual on faking your own death in front of witnesses,” Burke said, “complete with a mannequin with a gunshot in the same place he was shot.” Burke’s voice had almost broken as he’d reported what had gone down on the day Caffrey had died, including how he’d had no choice but to shoot and kill another conman, Matthew Keller, who was an Alpha like Caffrey. 

Here, Burke showed a report that said that Keller’s revolver had been filled with blanks, though he still held that Keller could not known that, given how there was no way that Keller would have raised the gun and fired, twice, at him, if he’d known that it was loaded with blanks. Keller was a killer (he was suspected of killing several members of his various crews over the years; Caffrey claimed to have witnessed him doing so on at least one occasion) and was seen clearly shooting to kill, so it was ruled a justified shot. There was CCTV footage of the shootout, which included the sound of a gunshot echoing through the canyon that was Wall Street, followed by Keller’s taunts about how Burke had to decide between capturing him or saying goodbye to Caffrey. Burke shot Keller between the eyes, and ran to where Caffrey had planned for them to meet, originally. 

There, he’d found Caffrey with a bullet in his chest. They’d been separated during the ensuing chaos of paramedics attempting to stabilize him for transport, and Caffrey had died of his injury before they’d gotten him into surgery. Burke’s voice broke as he described ID’ing Caffrey’s body, and how he and Caffrey’s best friend had taken it. It had taken a full year before he’d looked into it, off the books, and had gone to the storage unit. 

“I made my peace with his death a few years ago, Ms. Rushman,” Burke said, voice breaking and tears glittering in his eyes. “And yet, I still see him out of the corner of my eye, in how someone wears that stupid hat he was always wearing, in the brushstrokes of a forged work of art. Do I still hold out hope that he faked his death? Sometimes. He’d done it before, when I was chasing him. Do I think he would put me through that, even after everything that had happened while he was my CI? Perhaps. But do I think that he could live with knowing that he made June, El, Mozzie, think he was dead? I don’t think so, which is when I made peace with it. Seeing that storage unit was like seeing him on that slab in the morgue, again.”

He left shortly after that, discreetly wiping his eyes, without seeing the recent photographs of Caffrey. They had planned to show him the images, depending on how he’d taken the meeting. If he had even the slightest thoughts that Caffrey could still be alive, they’d have shown him the images. They debated putting him under surveillance, but decided that he’d figure it out and that surveilling an FBI agent wasn’t necessarily a good idea. It was time to confront Steve about his Mate. 

On the street below, just outside the main door of Stark Tower, Peter Burke smirked as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and called a payphone in Jersey City. “They’re on to you,” he said after a few moments. “Uh-huh. Don’t worry, I sold the performance. They don’t know I was in on the con.”


	9. Chapter 8 : a good reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, you punk, I want to know about your Alpha.” Bucky shook his head. “I want to know what makes him your Alpha, what made you choose him. And I want to know why you didn’t tell me, _me!_ your best friend, about him. We used to share everything with each other, our Heats, our Alphas, our hopes and our dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dazzledfirestar and dragongirlG for inspiration into what Bucky's pheromones smell like.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/57/6b/kqVEDZ9l_o.jpg)

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Almost a week after their trip to the Brooklyn Museum, Neal let Steve know that Agent Burke had been interviewed at the Tower, though he wasn’t completely sure about why he’d been contacted by the Avengers in the first place. They hadn’t let Burke know what they were looking for, but he thought it would be a good idea to let Neal know about the meeting, in case it turned out to be important. 

Steve knew about the yellow origami flower Neal had left in Natasha’s pocket - Sam had texted him a surreptitiously taken picture of the flower on the conference room table with Clint making a face in the background and the caption “your boy’s got skills” - and figured his teammates would want to learn why his Alpha would do something like that. Hell, _Steve_ wanted to know why his Alpha had done that, but Neal had shrugged and muttered something about wanting them to know that he knew he was being followed. 

With that in mind, Steve wasn’t too surprised when Clint wandered into the bakery when he was getting bagels one morning. Clint bumped into him as he was leaving, gripping his arm and asking for his distress phrase. To anyone watching, it would have been a simple bump and apology, something Tony had drilled into the team a few months earlier when they’d implemented the distress phrases. In the event that an Avenger was separated from the rest of the team, or hadn’t been heard from in long enough to worry, another Avenger would ask their distress phrase. Steve’s distress phrase was “Sorry, man, I’m a Yankees fan” while Tony’s was, amusingly, “Hammer’s the best boss ever.” In certain circumstances, such as the last time Steve had been captured by the supervillain of the day, the key word in the phrase could be used to signify how much danger they were in. 

At a bakery in Brooklyn, Steve simply shook his head, letting Clint know he was a Dodgers fan. Clint nodded, stepping back and apologizing for not watching where he was going. Steve watched him head to the counter and order a dozen bagels and a cup of black coffee to go before leaving the cafe himself and walking home. He bumped into Nat on his way there, feeling her drop a burner phone into his pocket. He didn’t see any other teammates, and left the phone on his hall table along with his keys. 

The next morning, Steve got up early and went for a long run, jogging his way out to Coney Island and back to DUMBO, before heading back out to Coney Island. Halfway there, Bucky jogged up beside him, tucking in next to him with a nonchalance that Steve almost believed. 

“You’re a hard friend to track down, you know that, right?” Bucky said. “You don’t answer your phone, either of them - and I know Nat left you a burner - and you won’t come to the Tower for anything. I’m stuck going _running_ though all of fucking Brooklyn if I want to talk to you.” 

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve asked. “To gloat?”

“No, you punk, I want to know about your Alpha.” Bucky shook his head. “I want to know what makes him your Alpha, what made you choose him. And I want to know why you didn’t tell me, _me!_ your best friend, about him. We used to share everything with each other, our Heats, our Alphas, our hopes and our dreams.”

Steve sighed, shaking his head as the ran. “I’m sorry, Buck. I wish I had a good reason, I really do, but I don’t have one.” 

“Not even an attempt at an excuse?”

“Not enough of one to bother with.” Steve kept running. “I had time for some serious introspection, these last few weeks, and that left me with the realization that none of my reasons were good enough. I have plenty of reasons, but no good ones.” 

“No reason to justify keeping me out of the loop?” Bucky asked. “I mean, I can see why you would keep Tony in the dark, but me?” 

“I know, Buck, I know.” Steve sighed again. “I… Neal and I… We… we started stepping out when you were in Wakanda. I didn’t think it was that serious until it was, and then… by then it was second nature not to talk about it, not to talk about him. Even with you.”

“That’s a dumb-ass reason, Stevie,” Bucky agreed. They jogged in silence for a few minutes, until Bucky asked if Steve regretted it. 

“With all my heart, Buck.” Steve’s voice was completely serious. “I regret not telling you, not confiding in you, not sharing everything with you like we used to. I regret keeping Neal a secret from the team, and I regret storming out of the Tower in a huff. I should have told you about my Alpha, I should have trusted my team. I should have trusted myself.” They jogged together in companionable silence, looping their way through DUMBO and back towards Park Slope, when Steve asked if he wanted to meet Neal. Bucky smiled, saying that he’d like that. 

They jogged their way back to the townhouse, Steve calling out for Neal as he closed the door. Neal popped into the kitchen, yawning slightly as he pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve wrapped an arm around Neal’s waist, and turned towards Bucky. “Neal, I want you to meet my best friend since childhood, Bucky Barnes.” 

Neal turned slightly to fully face Bucky, a slight smile on his lips. Instead of extending his hand, he offered his right wrist to Bucky, in a formal greeting that had gone out of style shortly after Steve went on ice. Bucky took half a step forward, and delicately sniffed his wrist. He smelled of bitter black coffee and expensive oil paints, with a warmth that could only have been Steve. After a moment, Bucky took a step back and reciprocated the greeting, allowing Neal to smell his aged leather, ozone, and honey cake pheromones. Neal took a delicate sniff, before nodding and stepping back, extending his hand. 

“Neal Caffrey,” he said, shaking Bucky’s hand. Unlike most Alphas, he didn’t try to break Bucky’s fingers with his grip, and the old fashioned Scenting greeting had suited him. “Steve’s said so much about you; it’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“So you’re the Alpha that’s stolen my Stevie’s heart?” Bucky asked. 

“Guilty as charged,” Neal said with a smirk, as if laughing at an inside joke that Bucky would be unaware of. An awkward silence threatened to fall. 

“Now that we’ve gotten that settled, how about I make us some coffee, and you and Bucky can get to know each other?” Steve asked, giving both Bucky and Neal a push towards the living room. Neal nodded, and gestured for Bucky to take a seat on the couch.


	10. Chapter 9: Carnival Games and Russian Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Neal take a trip to Coney Island and Brighton Beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dazzledfirestar, BeaArthurPendragon, dragongirlG for helping me with what languages Neal speaks.
> 
> Neal speaks some Russian, which has a hover/span text translation. The translation is also in the end note.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/24/f4/FvE2DP8m_o.jpg)

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It might have been awkward, at first, Steve’s best friend from childhood meeting his Alpha, but they left as friends, something Steve was grateful for. He promised to come back to the Tower for a training session in the next few days and Bucky was going to see if Bruce or Sam or Clint or Scott would be interested in meeting Neal in person, so they could try to head off the intervention and interrogation that was absolutely coming. Just before he left, Steve asked Bucky to let him handle Tony and Nat, if they decided to stage an intervention, and to instead focus on Sam, Bruce, and Clint. Neal had explained everything to Bucky, sitting in their living room with a cup of coffee, from his background to what Steve meant to him. 

The next day dawned with a crisp, clear blue sky with the slightest hint of fall on the breeze, Steve decided he wanted to take Neal somewhere he hadn’t been since the 30s, somewhere he’d never been without Bucky. Steve had gotten up early and gone for a run, just like the day before, getting back to the townhouse with some of the fancy smoked Alaskan salmon Neal liked. He put the food on the counter, pressed a kiss to Neal’s forehead, and headed for a quick shower while Neal made coffee. Neal was never quite awake before his first cup of coffee, looking adorably sleep rumpled and soft, standing in the kitchen while he watched the electric kettle boil for his fancy French Press coffee. 

By the time Steve was done with his shower and had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Neal had finished making coffee and had settled into the breakfast nook with a cup. He’d set up the cream cheese, avocado, and other toppings for their bagels on the movable island. Steve smiled at him as he slid the furniture over to the nook, and grabbed his own cup of coffee before sitting down next to him. 

Breakfast was a quiet, domestic affair, Neal still mostly asleep and Steve enjoying the closeness. When they’d finished breakfast and dealt with the dishes, Steve asked Neal if he trusted him. Neal answered without hesitation, his left thumb brushing against the rings they now both wore freely. Steve had kept both of them with him at the Tower, as a reminder of why he was doing what he was doing, but returned Neal’s ring to him after the Avengers learned of his existence. Neal had made a show of putting Steve’s on his finger and had then insisted that Steve put his on his finger. Then, with a smirk, the Alpha had pounced, thoroughly Scenting Steve.

With Neal game for what Steve had in mind, they got ready. Steve refused to tell him where they were going, just that he probably didn’t want to wear a suit and should leave the fedora at home. Neal pouted, but was soon dressed in a pair of khakis and a dark blue v-neck sweater that looked adorably soft. While it wasn’t the most casual clothing that Steve had seen him leave the house wearing (paint splattered jeans won that competition by a long shot), he didn’t look anywhere near as polished as he usually did in the slick suits he preferred. In lieu of his suit jacket, he pulled on a black peacoat as they collected their keys, wallets, and cell phones. Steve pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes, and tucked his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt as Neal pulled on his sunglasses. He looked mournfully at the hat. 

“You can wear the hat, but it might get blown away,” Steve cautioned with a smile, already picturing it. Neal glanced at Steve, then at his hat, before looking back up at Steve, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Are we going to Coney Island?” He asked after a moment. “I’ve never been.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Steve said shaking his head with a smile. “Should have known. Unless you don’t want to go?”

“Like I said, never been. Could be interesting.” Neal bumped against Steve’s shoulder, a fond smile on his lips. “Now I know why you suggested not wearing a suit, and leaving the hat at home.”

“You’d look a little out of place on the Cyclone in a suit, and I’d hate to see that hat of yours blown out to sea.” Steve said as they locked the door behind them. They walked to the Seventh Avenue subway station, and got on the F Train in the direction of Coney Island. Steve was strangely quiet during their trip, his Omega pheromones spiking with a bittersweet mix of emotions as he settled into a forward-facing window seat. 

“Did you and Bucky go out to Coney Island often?” Neal asked softly, wrapping his hands around Steve’s, and running his thumb over Steve’s pulse point, mingling their pheromones. He spared a moment to wonder if Brooklynites would recognize Captain America’s distinctive pheromones, but decided that soothing Steve was more pressing. Neal had come to recognize when Steve was having his “moments.” They weren’t quite _déjà vu_ nor were they _jamais vu_, his “moments”, but something that Steve described as an “overlay” - when he saw what it and what was at the same time. They could be incredibly disconcerting, and for the longest time after he’d been defrosted, the overlay, the moments, were enough to let him feel unanchored in the strange and colorful modern world. They had become significantly less common, but sometimes they snuck up on him. He should have realized that he’d have one on the way to Coney Island. 

“Not as often as people seem to think,” Steve said with a snort, his pheromones turning sad. “Bucky and I, we were poor before the Depression. Soon after my mom died, we moved into a cold water flat, a tenement, really, together, intending to go halfsies on the rent. We thought it was amazing, that it had running water, even with a shared hall bath, no hot water, and no heat, even in a Brooklyn winter. Those tenements should have been condemned, but no point in creating more homeless, I guess. I did what I could for my half of the rent, but no one wanted to hire a half-deaf, colorblind, asthmatic with a bad spine. I earned some money from drawing various pictures and signs and things, but there wasn’t really much of a market for all that. Bucky worked down at the docks, had since he was fourteen or fifteen. We made do, but sometimes, sometimes it was tough.”

“Why do people seem to think you would go to Coney Island regularly?” Neal couldn’t stop his pheromones rising in reaction to the distressed Omega pheromones from his Mate, but he kept his as light and as soothing as possible. 

“Wishful thinking? Maybe? That Captain America wasn’t as poor as living in a tenement in the Depression would suggest?” Steve sighed gustily, his breath musing Neal’s hair. “Perhaps because of the story the Howlies told about when we captured Zola off the train. Bucky asked if it was payback for making me ride the Cyclone. We only did that the once, but Monty liked to tell that story.”

Neal nodded, his head moving against Steve’s chin. He knew the train Steve was referring to, how everyone had thought Bucky Barnes had died in service to his country, falling from a train speeding through the frigid Alps. They’d captured Zola, but at what a cost. “Monty said you said you puked.”

“Yep.” Steve snorted. “Bucky should have known better - that was our fourth rollercoaster of the day. The Cyclone used to have company, you know, in the Comet, the Tornado and the Thunderbolt. It was my 18th birthday, and we’d gone to see the fireworks. Bucky used to say that, since I shared my birthday with America, so I should share her birthday fireworks. It was also when I could legally drink, since the drinking age was 18 back then. So, out we went to Coney Island. We did some of the carnival games and other things like that, ate a Coney Island hot dog, and rode both the Carousell and the Wonder Wheel before starting on the rollercoasters with the Thunderbolt. I loved it, so we went on the Tornado, then the Comet, then the Cyclone. I got dizzy getting off the ride and promptly threw up everywhere. They had to shut down the ride for a bit. We went home after that.”

“Did you go back, before?” Neal asked

“Didn’t get a chance to,” Steve said softly. “The economy was getting better, but we were still living in that tenement flat. There were rumblings of a war to come in Europe, but our government dismissed all of that, until it was too late. Bucky was drafted in ‘42, did you know that? It’s not on the display at the Smithsonian. I think they want it to look like he enlisted, like me, that him enlisting makes it look better to modern society, that he chose to go to war instead of being drafted. Once he was drafted, I had a hell of a time making rent on the flat, even with him sending most of his salary to me.”

“Have you been to Coney Island since you got back?” 

“Haven’t wanted to.” Steve pressed a kiss against Neal’s curls. “Some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. interns offered, Darcy offered, random New Yorkers offered. My only trip there was one of the few happy memories I have from the Depression. I didn’t want to lose it by going there with anyone but Bucky, until you.”

“I’m honored, Steve,” Neal said, leaning into the kiss. Steve’s pheromones were still a little bittersweet, but they were leveling off. Which was good, since they’d reached the Coney Island station. Neal took Steve’s hand as they made their way to ground level from the elevated subway platform, and asked him what he wanted to do first.

“I want to ride the new Thunderbolt, the Cyclone and the Wonder Wheel for old time’s sake, see if maybe I can win you something, before getting some food?” Steve sounded excited and his pheromones were similar. Being a place he remembered being happy and having fun with Bucky was helping to override the bittersweetness of being back. 

“Only if I can try to win you something, as well.” Neal smiled, tightening his grip on Steve’s hand as he bounded off towards the various concession stands dotting the midway. Steve said he wanted to get some Italian water ice, after the two roller coasters, but before he tried the various carnival games. Neal followed behind Steve, a bemused smile on his face. They got in line for the Thunderbolt, and Neal asked Steve what the original Thunderbolt was like. Steve laughed, saying that he didn’t really remember, but that it was similar to the Cyclone. It was a wooden track roller coaster, they all were. It was shorter than the Cyclone in duration, but didn’t have any of the inversions or the long drops that were added to roller coasters like the modern Thunderbolt. They stood in line, inching closer, watching people as they wandered through the park, or towards the boardwalk. Before long, they were strapping into the carriage, and the ride started. 

It was a very quick ride, the Thunderbolt, taking less than 40 seconds, despite 4 inversions and a corkscrew. Neal was glad that he’d left his fedora at the townhouse at Steve’s suggestion, since hats and roller coasters did not mix. At the end of the ride, they disembarked from the carriage, and walked through the amusement park to the Cyclone. Steve saw a few carnival games that he wanted to try, but after the Cyclone in case they won something. At the Cyclone, they waited in line again, but were soon settling into the carriage on the old wooden roller coaster. 

Once they were back on firm ground, not quite 3 minutes later, Steve wrapped his arm around Neal’s shoulder, pulling him close as he said, “You really didn’t like that, did you?”

“Not a huge fan of roller coasters,” Neal admitted, leaning into Steve’s arm. “Didn’t think it would be an issue, since you only wanted to ride the two of them.”

“You okay with ferris wheels?” Steve asked, pointing to the Wonder Wheel as they walked past it.

“Love them.” Neal smiled, determined to pull their day back around. “Let’s go get some of that Italian ice you were talking about, then try our luck at a few carnival games?” Steve grinned at Neal.

They got some water ice, both sticking to the traditional lemon. They walked out past the boardwalk and onto the sand as they ate. Once finished, Steve tossed his cup in the trash can, kicked his shoes and socks off, and jogged down to the water. He stepped in, letting the cold ocean waves lap his ankles, kissing his skin. He spent a few minutes with his feet in the water, walking a few feet in each direction, before he headed back to Neal, who’d found a spot to lean against the underside of the boardwalk, and was finishing up the last few bites of his lemon ice. He smiled up at Steve, who leaned down for a brief kiss. 

“Not going to get your feet wet?” Steve asked with a sigh. He sat down on the sandy beach to attempt to clean the sand off of his feet, brushing them futilely with his hands, before giving up and pulling his socks and shoes on with a grimace. It was not a good feeling, sand in his socks, but he didn’t have anywhere to put them and didn’t like wearing sneakers without socks. 

“I would if the water was warmer. Give me the tropics any day over the north Atlantic.” Neal tossed his trash in the trash can, considering something. “I wouldn’t have thought that you’d like the water this cold.”

“I don’t,” Steve said, hesitating, remembering the shock of hitting the water, then feeling it slowly creep up until his was surrounded by icy water, then… thankfully, nothing. “I wouldn’t go swimming in it. And you being here helped me decide to get my feet wet.” 

“Me?” Neal asked, surprised. “I was back here.”

“Knowing you were here, it made me remember that I was found, that I survived. I can imagine a lot, but going to Coney Island with my Mate wouldn’t be something that could have ever happened, back then.” Steve looked down at the sand, cool despite the sun. 

Neal nodded. It made sense. “Knowing I was here, even standing way back here was enough to anchor you to the here and now?”

“Exactly.” Steve held his hand up and let Neal pull him to his feet. “Let’s go win some carnival games.” He took Neal’s hand and ran towards the various carnival games set up along the midway, stopping in front of one of the several ring toss games. This one had the standard glass bottles set up, but it also had baseball balancing one about two thirds of the glass bottles. Steve talked to the person running the booth and handed over some money in exchange for half a dozen rings. Steve was good, taking his time and lining up his throws before he made them, getting each of the rings over the baseball topped bottles, and winning a large stuffed animal. He handed the stuffed animal to Neal, who smiled. 

They wandered through the midway, past the food stands, Neal popping into a souvenir shop to buy a box of salt water taffy, and a reusable tote bag to carry the stuffed animal. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, and took Steve’s hand as he saw the carnival game he wanted to try, pulling him over to the rope ladder climb. Neal talked to the person running the game for a moment, handing over a few dollars, before handing Steve their shopping bag, stepping into the arena, and grabbing the ladder to start. 

Steve knew how hard the rope ladder game was, as Tony had added a variation of it to the Avengers’ gym during his recent carnival games kick, and they’d all taken turns attempting to climb it. He couldn’t do it, something about his muscle mass and center of gravity. Thor couldn’t do it, laughing as he fell off the ladder faster than Steve. They were both the best at challenges that required brute strength. Sam couldn’t do it, though he was the fastest at climbing a suspended vertical rope, also part of the Avengers’ gym. Tony could climb the ladder with no problems, but he could only climb it inverted, unable to keep it from flipping him. Like Tony, Clint had trouble keeping the rope ladder upright, but could easily handle being flipped upside down without falling off. He was the best at marksmanship games, edging out Bucky by mere millimeters. Bucky was similar to both Tony and Clint, in that he could climb the ladder but had trouble staying upright. He thought it had something to do with his arm, as it had changed his center of gravity and made it harder for him to balance, something he was doing yoga for. 

Only Nat had been able to climb the rope ladder on her first try, becoming the first Avenger to successfully climb it. Bucky, Clint, and Tony were both determined to figure out what she was doing that allowed her to complete the climb without being inverted. Bruce had spent the afternoon watching and laughing as the Avengers tried out the various carnival games. He’d filmed them on his phone, and they were able to use the footage - along with J.A.R.V.I.S.’s footage - to analyze and critique their performance. 

Like Nat, Neal had no problems climbing the ladder, ringing the bell at the top, and climbing back down to claim his prize of a large stuffed animal, which he presented to Steve with a satisfied smile. 

Steve put his stuffed animal into the bag along with Neal’s, slid it over his shoulder, and took Neal’s hand as they walked. Steve hungry already, with his increased metabolism, so he wandered over to one of the famous hot dog stands, ordering them Coney Island hot dogs, two for him and one for Neal, and two bottles of water, handing over some cash. They sipped at their water while they waited for their food. Steve collected the hot dogs once they were ready, and they found a bench to sit and people watch while they ate their food. 

Steve bit into his Kosher beef hot dog, smothered in a meat sauce, yellow mustard, cheese, and onions, memories of going to Coney Island with Bucky immediately surfacing. He ate the first one in three bites, getting mustard and meat sauce everywhere, and had started on his second one before he noticed that Neal had taken a small and dainty bite of his, before making a face, and offering his to Steve. He knew how much Steve hated wasting food, even hot dogs Steve ate the hot dog, cleaned himself up with napkins and some water, washed it down with the rest of his water, and tossed their trash. “How about we get something sweet to eat while we wait in line for the Wonder Wheel, then walk the boardwalk to Brighton Beach for a nice dinner?”

Neal agreed and tossed his unfinished water into the shopping bag, before allowing Steve to pull him to his feet. They wandered through the midway in the direction of the Wonder Wheel before Neal saw the food he wanted. They waited in a short line for a funnel cake, sprinkled it liberally with powdered sugar, and ate it as they walked to the Wonder Wheel, finishing it while standing in line there. 

Neal asked Steve questions about what Coney Island was like before the war, and Steve offered to draw it when they got back to the house. He hadn’t been to Coney Island since waking up in the future, though he had taken the time to read about what had happened in the years since he’d last been and was glad to see that the Cyclone was still running. 

After a short wait, they got to the platform and took seats in the carriage, tucking their stuffed animals next to Neal. Steve wrapped his arms around Neal’s waist, pulling him in close. Neal smiled as he snuggled into Steve, eyes closing briefly as he breathed him in. Their carriage shook as they were raised into the air, stopping after a few seconds and the next carriage was filled. After a few of those, the Wonder Wheel was full, and they started slowly moving. Neal opened his eyes, snuggling almost into Steve’s lap, and they watched as the world turned. They went around the wheel a few times, before the ride was over and carriage started being emptied of their riders. They got a minute or so at the top of the ferris wheel, overlooking the world, sharing a lingering kiss. 

Done with the Wonder Wheel, they walked hand in hand down the Coney Island Boardwalk until it ended at Brighton Beach. They walked for a bit longer, before Steve pulled them towards a restaurant, saying he’d been there with Natasha before, and the food had been really good. 

Once seated, the bag containing their winnings tucked under Neal’s chair, they took a look at the menu, which was in Russian. Steve frowned at the menu, trying to remember if Nat had ordered for him, or if she had gotten him an English-language menu. He was about to ask Neal if he had any idea if he wanted to try to order, when Neal asked if he wanted him to order for them both. Steve nodded, about to ask when Neal learned Russian, when the waiter returned. Neal conversed with her for a moment, before ordering them something. Steve hoped it was those little dumplings he’d had the last time he was here, as they had been really good. 

“What did you get us?” Steve asked as the waiter returned with glasses of water and a bottle of red wine.

“Some traditional Russian food. You’ll like it.” Neal smiled at Steve as they sipped their wine. It was quite good. 

“When you’d learn Russian?” Steve asked.

“Years ago. I was looking for a music box that had once in the Amber Room of Catherine the Great.” Neal looked briefly pained, his pheromones sad, as though the music box had caused him turmoil. 

“How many languages do you speak?” Steve asked, determined not to let Neal fall into whatever memory the music box brought to the surface. 

“Six fluently.” Neal smiled slightly. “Nine or ten if you include ones I know conversationally.”

“Which ones?” Steve asked. Neal paused as the waiter brought them out two bowls of a purplish soup with a dollop of sour cream on the top, and a plate of a dark bread that smelled like rye. Neal stirred his soup, drinking a spoonful before answering.

“English, French, German, Russian, Italian, and Chinese are the ones I can speak fluently,” he said, eating another bite of his soup. “I speak Ukrainian, Spanish, Wakandan, and Swahili conversationally. How do you like your borshch?”

“Is that what this is?” Steve asked, lifting a spoonful of purplish broth, white beans, and meat to his mouth. “It’s really good.” He tried not to think of why Neal might have learned conversational Wakandan, long before the borders were opened. It was either that or imagine that Neal had worked with Ulysses Klaue. 

“It’s red borshch, specifically. Thought you’d like it more than shchi or rassolnik, though shchi is more traditional as a first course.” They ate for a few minutes in silence, finishing their borshch. Steve relaxed in his chair, taking another sip of his wine. 

Their waiter returned, bringing them their next course, which consisted of many large plates of food. She placed a clean plate in front of each of them, and Steve realized that this course was to share. The waiter cleared away their borshch bowls and Neal explained what everything was. One plate had two types of dumplings: pelmeni (small thin ones filled with meat) and vareniki (larger ones filled with mashed potatoes that reminded Steve of pierogi) with a small dish of sour cream. There was a small bowl of something Neal called a _salat Olivye_ that looked a bit like egg salad. Another dish contained golubtsy, which looked to be a cabbage leaf stuffed with meat. Another plate had a slice of kholodets, which looked a lot like some of the aspic dishes Steve had eaten during the Depression. Lastly, there was a plate of open-faced sandwiches on a white bread, spread liberally with butter and topped with large orange caviar. 

Steve served himself a small amount of all of the dishes, making sure to taste everything. He’d had the dumplings before, along with some pickled vegetables. There had been a lot of vodka at that dinner with Natasha, and more finger food. Idly, Steve glanced around the room, trying to see if Nat was sitting at a table in the dining room, having tracked them to Brighton Beach. He didn’t see her, but he wasn’t looking particularly hard, instead focusing on his dinner with Neal. 

They ate their food, quietly discussing it, with Neal explaining some of the finer points of Russian cuisine in general and some of the food on the table in particular. Steve liked both types of dumplings, the stuffed cabbages, and the caviar butterbrot, but was hesitant on the _salat Olivye_ and the kholodets, saying the former would be better without the meat and the latter was a bit too similar to some of what he’d eaten during the Depression. Neal huffed a laugh at that, finishing his butterbrot as their waiter came by to collect their plate. They conversed for a minute, before she returned to the kitchen with their dishes. 

“What’s up next?” Steve asked, happy to indulge Neal in fancy Russian food as often as Neal wanted. Fancy French food, fancy German food, anything that made him smile. 

“Vodka and zakuska, then a slice of medovik,” Neal said with a smile. “Not too much vodka, enough for a taste.” Their waiter returned, carrying a tray of small plates and six shots of vodka. She placed the small plates on the table, then placed the vodka on the table.

“Traditionally, you’d make a toast, take your shot, then take a bite of something to take the edge off the vodka.” Neal grinned at Steve. “Not required, but it is traditional. I asked for a selection of small things to eat with our vodka, so we’ve got some salo, some pickled herring, some shuba, and some regular dill pickles.”

“What’s shuba?” Steve asked, eyeing the dish in question with some amount of trepidation. The salo looked a bit like salted pork belly fat, but the shuba wasn’t immediately clear.

“Dressed herring, sometimes called “herring under a fur coat.” Russians and Ukrainians often shorten it to “shuba” which a fur coat. It’s pickled herring under vegetables and some mayonnaise. You might like it.” Steve scooped a small bite onto his plate, along with some salo, some pickled herring, and a dill pickle, before picking up his glass and clinking it against Neal’s. Neal said something softly in Russian, repeating it in English as “to our health.” They both sipped their vodka, having a few bite of food in between sips, Steve finding the shuba interesting. When finished with their first shot, they clinked their second shot together, Neal murmuring “to our lives” in both Russian and English, and sipped their way through that shot. For their final shot, Neal explained that there was a traditional third toast for vodka, murmuring “to love” in both Russian and English as they clinked glasses. 

When they’d finished their vodka and the waiter had cleared their table, Neal told Steve of a variation of the love toast, one that was not always told in polite company, “_Чтобы столы ломились от изобилия, и кровати от любви_?” Steve laughed, murmuring the words back to Neal as they clinked their wine glasses. Their waiter returned with a slide of medovik for each of them. 

“Honey cake,” Neal said. “Takes forever to make, since it’s made with incredibly thin layers of sponge and cream and honey. Very sweet.” Neal took a small bite and smiled. Steve did the same thing, taking small bites and savoring each one.

Once they were finished with their medovik, Steve paid their check, left a nice tip for their waiter, and they headed to the Brighton Beach Subway station. They took the Q train towards Prospect Park, and found seats, Neal snuggling into Steve’s arms. At the Parkside Avenue subway station they got off and walked leisurely through Prospect Park, arm in arm. They talked about Coney Island and Brighton Beach, the Cyclone and Russian food, of everything and nothing, as they walked back to their townhouse. A perfect end to a perfect day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian : To making tables burst with abundance, and beds of love


	11. Chapter 10 : Search Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Found something interesting?” Tony asked. “That’s what you ask…? Is he conning you?”

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/19/f7/D4RARVNo_o.jpg)

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A few days after they went to Coney Island, a few days after Bucky had met Neal for the first time, Steve was puttering around the townhouse, doing some minor home repairs when one of Tony’s many cars pulled up out front. Happy got out of the driver’s seat, and rang the doorbell. 

“Mr Stark needs you for a debrief at Avengers Tower, Captain Rogers,” Happy said when Steve opened the door. “He said it’s urgent.” 

Steve sighed, before nodding and inviting Happy in. He texted Bucky as he changed out of his beaten up and paint-splattered clothing, before writing Neal a note to let him know where he was, grabbing his briefcase and following Happy to the car. Happy opened the door and Steve slid into the backseat, putting his briefcase on the seat next to him. Happy stepped around the car, slid into the driver’s seat, started it, and pulled smoothly out into traffic, taking them straight towards the Tower. They made small talk as he drove, talking about what had happened in the last few weeks, since Steve had left. Happy told him what he knew about the Avengers’ investigation, though he didn’t know much, just that they were interested in an unknown Alpha. 

At the Tower, Steve went up to the main Avengers floor, making small talk with J.A.R.V.I.S. in the elevator. J.A.R.V.I.S. let Steve know more about the investigation, saying that “Sir and the Avengers were very curious about your Mate, Captain Rogers.” While he wouldn’t say much about the investigation, J.A.R.V.I.S. didn’t seem worried, saying “I trust your judgement in other places, Captain, and feel that your personal life is just that. Sir is not of the same opinion.” 

Once on the main floor, Steve headed to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and ignoring the slowly assembling Avengers. He considered making something, like pancakes, but decided against it. Once the coffee was ready and most of the on-planet Avengers were assembled in the large room that contained both their eating area and their living room, Steve poured the coffee into a thermal container and himself a cup, before bringing it to the table. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S. said that you’re investigating Neal,” he said as he sat down, taking a sip of his coffee. Given his meeting with Bucky earlier that week, there was no reason to be cagey about the identity of his Mate. “I take this to mean that you found something interesting?” He glanced at each of them in turn, taking how they were seated, deciding that, along with Bucky, Bruce and Sam understood why he had tried to keep his personal life personal, even if they didn’t know or understand his reasoning. On the other side, Tony and Natasha were the ones Steve would have to convince, as they weren’t likely to be swayed by his heartfelt regret about how he’d handled the situation. Clint appeared torn, the Beta understanding why he would keep his personal life to himself, but also aware of Neal’s history, making him wary of his intentions. Thor was off-world and likely wouldn’t be back until after this was settled. Wanda was working with Dr. Strange to learn more about her magic, Pietro was at the Xavier Institute, strengthening his talents, and Scott was presumably in one of the SI labs, working on his research, having missed the entire investigation.

“Found something interesting?” Tony asked. “That’s what you ask…? Is he conning you?”

“What? No!” Steve started, surprised. 

“He knock you up?” Tony asked. Ignoring Steve’s exclamations, Tony pressed on. “We know who he is, we know he did, and we know he’s been supposed to be dead. Mix that with the fact that you didn’t tell us about him. It’s not that we want to be all up in your business, Cap, it’s that we didn’t know that you were serious about any Alpha, much less Mated to one. A top-notch con artist - one who was on the SI watchlists - who’s the secret Mate of one of my teammates, one of my friends? Not a difficult conclusion to make.” 

Steve didn’t say anything, staring mulishly at Tony. Bucky admitted, until he’d met Neal, it certainly looked suspicious, Steve keeping him a secret from the team. If Steve had a good reason for doing that, this would be easier. Neal having enemies, Neal having a record? Not a good enough reason, he knew. Tony, for all of his flouting of the rules while testifying in front of Congress, was a stickler for Initiative vetting. It was his money and his Tower supporting the Avengers after the collapse of SHIELD and their resources, so the Avengers rarely said anything about the vetting and clearance, all feeling safer simply knowing that it existed, since it helped keep their personal lives from being splashed across the New York tabloids.

Tony pressed on. “You know how we learned about your Mate? The one we didn’t know existed less than a month ago? Hill ran his picture through an SI background check, followed by the standard Initiative vetting procedures,” Tony said. “You know we do that for everyone with access to these floors, from celebrities to partners to housekeeping and the facilities crew. Everyone with access to these floors has to be Initiative vetted, since anyone with that clearance level is allowed to know personal details about the Avengers. You should see who’s been Initiative vetted, it’s a laugh, some of them. Before you say anything, yes, running anyone through our systems without their permission is a bit of a legal gray area. We justify it thus - anyone with access to this floor must be Initiative vetted and the data is sealed on my private server. Only J.A.R.V.I.S., Pepper, and I have access to it. Unless something is revealed, like someone tries to approach the Avengers with a fake name or something like that, in which case there are procedures in place.”

“He’s not conning me, Tony,” Steve said when Tony finally stopped for breath. “I can see why you would think that, and I know how suspicious it must look to you, but he’s not conning me and he didn’t knock me up. I know about his past, I know about the fact that he faked his own death at the hands of Matthew Keller.” He’d known the story, and Neal had expanded upon what had happened when talking with Bucky. Something Tony said registered. “What sort of systems did you run him through?” he asked.

“The standard ones for clearance at the Initiative level. Same ones we run everyone through. Why?” Tony asked. 

“Any systems that could have triggered a search protocol?” Steve asked. At the table with Bucky, Sam and Bruce immediately looked at him, paying significantly more attention. They’d been listening half-heartedly, having already decided that Steve had his reasons, no matter how dumb they were. Clint shifted in his seat, having realized where Steve was going. 

“What sort of search protocol?” Natasha asked. “We took precautions to avoid triggering any sort of programming. We wanted to know who he was, not get him killed.”

“What about passive programming? The sort set up to record any searches on a specific person?” 

“Such as?” Tony set his tablet on the counter and started typing rapidly. 

“If someone suspected that Neal might have faked his death and gone to ground, only to reappear when he thought it was safe, said person might be able to set up a search protocol to look for any references to him. For example, interest in a sealed FBI file belonging to a deceased asset,” Steve said.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. poked around in various files.” Tony looked a little worried. He tapped a few buttons, and frowned at whatever displayed on his tablet. “Including his FBI and INTERPOL files. 

“I was afraid of that.” Steve pinched his nose and ran his hand over his face. “As I already told you, I knew about all of this. I knew about the felony conviction, the anklet, how he was disenfranchised. I also knew about the Pink Panthers.”

“That’s the organization he was undercover with, when he…?” Bucky spoke for the first time, making a hand gesture that somehow incorporated everything. Steve nodded. 

“Ruthless organization, that one. If I wasn’t aware of how awful humanity can be without being HYDRA, I’d suspect them of having active ties to them.” Steve paused. “This may not be in your report, but Neal watched Woodford kill one of his most trusted people on the suspicion that he was working undercover for INTERPOL. He wasn’t.”

“Keller was,” Tony pointed reasonably. 

“He was. They were both there when Woodford shot and killed the man.” Steve stood. He made eye contact with Tony as he spoke. “I didn’t tell you about Neal, and I should have, I know. I don’t have a good reason for not telling you. My only reason for not telling you is because I knew you would Initiative vet him, per protocol for partners, and he was afraid that anyone poking away at his background would activate a search protocol. Woodford himself may be in prison, but the FBI didn’t get every Pink Panther.”

“Are you saying…?” Tony asked. 

“That you running a background check on Neal, that you hacking into his FBI file might have put his life at risk? Yes.” Steve looked at every Avenger. Clint, Sam, and Bruce looked slightly guilty that they hadn’t attempted to rein Tony in. Bucky raised his eyebrow at Steve, asking a silent question. Steve shook his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

“I’m going to call Neal, let him know that the Panthers may be on him, that they may have learned that he faked his own death, and let him decide what he wants to do about it.” Steve pressed the phone to his ear, heading for the emergency stairs at a run. 

As the door closed behind him, Natasha stepped over to Bucky and whispered, “you’ve been awfully quiet. When did you meet him?”


	12. Chapter 11 : a deal with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say about making a deal with the Devil - the Devil always wins in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a POV-switch, to that of Alan Woodford, the leader of the Pink Panthers. He's in prison, after having been convicted of attempting to steal a shipment of hundreds of millions of US dollars in cash, and murder.
> 
> Chapter spoilers in the end note.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/3f/25/wYkCMLb3_o.jpg)

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“You seem surprised to see me.” The distinguished-looking red-haired Alpha in a grey three-piece suit said as he took a seat at the far side of the table. He grinned at my confusion. 

“Considering you’re supposed to be dead, yes,” I said as I sat opposite him, cuffs jingling with my every move. He looked surprised, the sort of patently fake surprise that all good con men and women perfect long before their first successful con. The best cons would have been masters of the screen and stage. The man across from me was one of those, a career con. I’d known that the first time we’d met, almost twenty years ago now, back before I’d realized who he really was, who I was really working with. 

“Word gets around, even in prison,” I said cryptically. Especially so when Captain fucking America is almost executed on a public street in Northern Virginia, then seen taking down the Project INSIGHT Helicarriers. I may have been in prison when that happened, already mourning that Neal Caffrey’s death at Matthew Keller’s hands made revenge impossible, but words gets around. And word was that Alexander Pierce of the World Security Council was said to have been shot and killed at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters during a firefight for the Triskelion. Highly unusual for a man of his importance to be a friendly fire casualty, I’d thought, until I learned that he was shot _after_ revealing himself to be HYDRA. I may be considered a moral degenerate because I’m a thief, but I have standards, and I don’t work for HYDRA. Which was too bad, because Pierce and his security always had the most interesting things they wanted “reclaimed.” And he paid extremely well. Well enough to make me almost willing to overlook the fact that he’s HYDRA. 

“Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated,” he said, that same grin on his face. I leveled a stare of my own at him, determined to learn why he was here. Why had he waited almost four years to visit me in prison, if all he wanted to do was lord it over me that he was alive, that I had been working for HYDRA. Only the first was a surprise, mind you.

“Why are you here?” I asked after a few minutes of staring at him. “I’ll admit this is the most excitement I’ve had all year, but, as you can see, I’m retired.” I spread my hands as far as the handcuffs would allow. 

“You remember that last heist you and the Panthers pulled?” he asked me, eyes narrowing. 

“Hard to forget the big score that landed you in the big house,” I replied, refusing to give him anything. I’d already figured out that the Panthers and I had been used by HYDRA, doing their dirty work at our expense. 

“How much were you supposed to make on that?” he pushed. 

“Enough to set us up for life.” I paused, considering. There wasn’t much reason to avoid talking about my (alleged) crimes, at least there was no reason to avoid talking about the one I had been rather publicly convicted of. “We were out to steal a shipment of hundreds of millions of US dollars in cash, coming over from Europe. We knew where and when the shipment was going to land, and we had a narrow window to strike. With the help of Matthew Keller, who turned out to be working for INTERPOL in exchange for a much reduced sentence in a Russian gulag, and Neal Caffrey, who turned out to be still the FBI’s pet convict, we gained access to the vault, and succeeded in siphoning the cash from the airport to a secondary location.” 

I pause in my recitation, noticing his reaction to the late, great, Caffrey, before continuing, “Everyone but Keller, Caffrey, and someone Caffrey brought in at the very end, were arrested at the secondary location by a combination of agents from the Secret Service, the FBI, and the local police. This in and of itself was highly suspicious, though I later learned that Caffrey had planned to rip us off, possibly to pay off Keller, though I’m not positive, since they’re both dead. I fail to see why this is of importance, however.” 

“Neal Caffrey.” He said.

“Neal Caffrey.” I waited, watching him steadily, relaxing as much as I could, to show that was willing to wait him out. After all, I had all the time in the world, and he was the first visitor I’ve had in four years.

“Did you know that we tried to recruit him?” Pierce asked after a few moments. “Off the chart marksmanship scores mixed with all that charm. Easy enough to lead around by the knot and showed potential susceptibility to… other methods. Pity he preferred forging artwork to the military or the police. He would have been a good agent.”

“Of HYDRA, you mean?” I ask, already thinking of what he was saying. Neal Caffrey, HYDRA’s answer to the Black Widows of the Red Room. A Winter Soldier who was capable of being James Bond, instead of the shock and awe mixed with the occasional long distance assassination. I kept my expression calm, though internally I was panicking at the thought. “That’s an interesting thought. Slightly terrifying, I must admit.”

“As should be the fists of HYDRA, no?” Pierce asked. “You can see it, can’t you? Two Winter Soldiers, one holding court with the Black Widows and the James Bonds of the intelligence world, and one on a hilltop with a sniper rifle.” 

“Two Soldiers implies that you have the Serum,” I point out, relaxing slightly. Everyone knew the story of the last existing vial of the Erskine Serum, accidentally smashed shortly after the death of Dr. Abraham Erskine. Not even Howard Stark could reverse engineer it from blood samples, nor had the brilliant Dr. Banner, who’d been the most famous in a long line of scientists attempting to recreate the Serum. 

“That’s what we need your help with,” he said.

“Need my help for what?” I asked. “The Serum doesn’t exist.”

“No. But Steve Rogers does.”

I sat back in my chair, no longer relaxed. Alexander Pierce wasn’t the first person to have had that thought, and he wouldn’t be the last person to have that thought. He was, however, the person the mostly to succeed. “Two of the greatest scientific minds of their generations couldn’t reverse-engineer the serum, and one of them had direct access to Steve Rogers’ blood. What makes you so certain you can succeed where so many better than you have failed?”

“What if I told you that Neal Caffrey was still alive?”

I made a face at his apparent non-sequitur, but I could follow along with the best of them. “If he’s alive, he knows what happens to those who betray the Panthers.”

“Similar to those who betray the might of HYDRA?”

“Similar.” I sat up straight and rested my manacled hands on the table. I could slip the cuffs with no problem, but there was no need, with nowhere to go, no way to escape. “What does that have to do with Steve Rogers?”

“The Avengers have been investigating an Alpha.” I could tell that the bastard was enjoying making me drag it out.

“The Avengers investigate lots of Alphas. What does that have to do with either Steve Rogers or Neal Caffrey?” 

Pierce smirked at me, pulling a smartphone from the inside pocket of his suit. He flicked through something, before sliding the phone across the table to me. I glanced down at it, taking it in, making an uninterested face and handing him back the phone, before asking what it had to do with me.

“If you’ll help me, I’ll get you out of here.” He smirked at me again. 

“Help you with what?” I asked. I didn’t doubt that he could get me out of prison, oh but I worried about the strings. And there were always strings with HYDRA. Then there was the, well, working with HYDRA aspect of it. Was revenge reason enough for me to choose to work with them? What would it say about me, choosing to work with HYDRA? What would it say about the Panthers? I pondered the situation, watching Pierce watch me.

“You bring me Steve Rogers, and HYDRA will make all this go away.” 

“What, you’re going to get my conviction overturned or something?” I ask with a smile, leaning back in my chair. 

“Or something.” He gave me a level gaze, which I returned unflinchingly. He blinked first, looking away. There was little he could do to me, here in this prison, and he knew it. “If you agree to get me Steve Rogers, I’ll send someone. To help.”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, smirking. 

“Then the Pink Panthers and I are at your disposal.” The words left a bad taste in my mouth, there was nothing I could do, and he knew I knew that. 

“I’ll send an asset to collect you. You’re more valuable than you think.” With that, he stood and walked to the door to the visitation room. I remained seated, waiting for the guard to bring me back to my cell, wondering what I had done, what sort of deal I had made. You know what they say about making a deal with the Devil - the Devil always wins in the end. 

A few days later, there was a large boom as something exploded, and the cell doors all opened. I stayed in my cell until the asset Pierce mentioned appeared, though I was just prolonging the inevitable, I suppose. 

An Alpha stepped into my cell. One I recognized. One I knew was dead. He smirked ferally up at me, and said, “What do you say, you and me, we blow this popsicle stand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Alpha asset sent to break Woodford out of jail is none-other-than Matthew Keller.


	13. Chapter 12 : into a black town car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is captured

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/f4/48/CCaiiv1q_o.jpg)

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“Sir, you told me to keep an eye out for reports on Alan Woodford. It appears that he escaped from prison last night,” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice cut through Tony’s music. 

“Cut the music, J, assemble the Avengers in the common area, and reconstruct how he escaped.” Tony put his welding torch down, already heading for the door to his lab. He saw Bruce leaving his lab, and they took the elevator to the common floor, getting there just before everyone else. 

“What’s with the assembly in the common area?” Natasha asked, opening the refrigerator and poking around before closing it with a frown.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me that Alan Woodford escaped from prison last night.” Tony picked up his tablet and started scrolling through the information, fingertips rapidly tapping the screen. “He’s the leader of the Pink Panthers and was convicted of numerous crimes, mostly on evidence gathered by a combination of Neal Caffrey, Matthew Keller, and Peter Burke.”

“Do you think he’s realized that Caffrey’s still alive?” Clint asked. “That’s what Cap was worried about, correct?”

“It's what Cap was worried about and the timing's suspicious.” Tony frowned at his tablet for a moment, then flicked whatever he was looking at onto one of the screens. “Prison records show that he met with a “James Bennett” shortly before his escape, but that looks a lot like Alexander Pierce.” 

“Isn’t James Bennett Caffrey’s father?” Sam asked, studying the grainy image on the screen, before continuing, “that looks like Robert Redford.”

“Yeah, Pierce was Redford’s evil doppelgänger. I always wanted to test their DNA, see if they were long-lost twins or clones or something. Bennett, however, looks like this,” Tony said, flicking his fingers again. A different man appeared on a different screen. “Doesn’t look anything like the person who came to visit Woodford, does he?”

“No, and the person who visited Woodford really does look like Pierce.” Natasha studied the image. “He’s dead. Fury shot him twice in the chest. I was there, Tony.”

“Fury didn’t go for a headshot?” Bucky asked, clearly considering something. “Do you remember Zemo? How he found and destroyed the other Winter Soldiers?”

“The ones created from the serum Howard was transporting when HYDRA assassinated him?” Tony asked, giving Bucky the side-eye. 

“Did we ever learn if they were any more?” 

Tony shook his head. “The whole thing was a set up. I wasn’t able to grab any of their data, just a long enough recording to exonerate Buckaroo over there.” 

“Is is possible that Pierce was given a dose or two of that serum?” Bucky asked the room at large, before making eye contact with Bruce.

“Perhaps?” Bruce sounded very unsure. “Since Tony wasn’t able to grab any of the data from the facility, we don’t know how they activated it, or what sort of side effects it would have had.”

“If he did have it, those two shots to the chest wouldn’t have killed him.” Bucky sounded sure. 

“What about a headshot?” Sam asked. Everyone turned to look at him. “That’s how Agent Burke shot Matthew Keller, yeah? Could you survive that? Could Steve?”

Bucky shrugged. “If I went almost immediately on ice, maybe?”

“Matthew Keller. That’s quite a leap, Sam,” Nat said. 

“We’ve got two dead guys walking around, both shot in the chest in front of witnesses,” Sam pointed out. “Who’s to say there isn’t a third dead man walking?”

“Good point. We’ve got to let Steve know.” Tony pulled his phone out, already dialing Steve’s number. 

“_What do you want, Tony?_” Steve asked. He didn’t sound pleased to hear from Tony.

“Do you know where Caffrey is?” Tony asked. 

“_He’s at the gallery. Why?_” 

“The gallery you showed Clint? We looked into that one when we were investigating your Mate.”

“_Yeah, that’s the one. Why?_” Steve did not sound happy. 

Tony sounded distracted as he said, “it’s owned by an Elizabeth Mitchell. J.A.R.V.I.S., run her.”

“_Tony, why are you calling me?_” Steve asked. 

“Alan Woodford escaped from prison. He had help. We think Alexander Pierce went to see him shortly before the escape.”

“_I’ll let Neal know._” Steve sounded distracted, his voice distant.

J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted, “Sir, I hate to interrupt, but Alpha Elizabeth Mitchell married Beta Peter Burke in 2000, according to the state of New York.”

“Wait, he knew?” Tony exclaimed. “Agent Burke lied to the Black Widow?”

Steve huffed a laugh. “_Of course Peter knew, it just took him a few years. He wasn’t aware of all of the details in how Neal faked his death. Made it more real to anyone watching._”

“I’m sending a car to pick you up at the townhouse, Cap, and I’m sending a second car to the gallery. Caffrey knows who Happy is, I suppose?” Tony asked. 

“_He does. I texted him to let him know. He said he’s going to come here first, he has a few things he needs to get before he can go to the Tower._”

“I’ll redirect Happy to you.” Tony paused. “Steve, we need you to stay on the line until Happy collects you and Caffrey.”

“_Not a problem. I’m going to put you on speakerphone while I pack a few suitcases._” 

The Avengers listened to Steve packing, and relaxed when they heard him open the front door, thinking Happy was there. Then, _”Who are you? Uh, Tony?”_

A man’s voice came across the phone. “_Let Caffrey know you’re coming with me, Stevie-boy_.” The line clicked off. 

The Avengers sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, before Tony yelled for J.A.R.V.I.S. to track whatever car Steve had been forced into, as well as find CCTV footage of the kidnapping. A few moments later, J.A.R.V.I.S. said, “Sir, you have a call coming in on your direct personal line. It’s origin point is a mobile phone about two blocks from the townhouse.”

“Put him through, J.” Tony tapped a button on his phone. “Tony Stark speaking.”

“_I was hoping this was still the right number. You wouldn’t believe what Mozzie made me do to get this_.” The man’s voice was soft, and he was not the same person who’d spoken to Steve. 

“Is this Neal Caffrey?” Tony asked, noting how both Bucky and Clint reacted to the voice.

“_Are you and the dangerous redhead done following me across Brooklyn?_”

“I’ll take that as a yes. You calling me for a reason?”

“_I just saw Captain America being forced into a black town car at gunpoint. Figured the Avengers would like to know._”

“Are you willing to come to the Tower? We’ve set up something of a command center here.”

“_I’ll be there as soon as I can grab my bag._”

“You know who Happy is, right?” Tony asked. At Caffrey’s affirmative sound, he continued, “he’s on his way to collect you and bring you to the Tower.”

“_Ten-four_,” Caffrey said, before hanging up the phone. 

Across town, in a brownstone townhouse in Brooklyn, Neal Caffrey opened a hidden closet door, smiling at whatever was inside.


	14. Chapter 13:  I know where they took him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal Caffrey meets the Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Marie's a chaotic bunny for coming up with what Pepper Potts' Alpha pheromones smell like, to Dazzledfirestar, BeaArthurPendragon, dragongirlG for coming up with that Matthew Keller's Alpha pheromones smell like, to (n) all women are queens, sasuke and Dazzledfirestar for giving me Marvel and MCU references, and to beta betheflame for not letting me have Neal do something unbelievably stupid and out of character.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/bf/23/sVu9TyaB_o.jpg)

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He should have known that it was too good to be true. That the life he’d created for himself, that he’d scraped together, would come tumbling down like a house of cards. He should have known that, in the end, it would be his fault. 

Steve had told him that the Avengers had investigated his FBI and Interpol files, letting J.A.R.V.I.S. hack into the FBI servers, an action that had likely started a search protocol. It had, apparently, never occurred to Tony Stark that someone who was believed to be dead would have reason for wanting the world to believe he was dead. And concentrated attention on his FBI file, that would be the sort of attention the Panthers would look for. His name coming up as a known associate? Not enough attention to worry about. Peter Burke pulling and copying his file to a flash drive, years after his “death”? Yeah, that’s suspicious. 

He’d had time, shortly after it went down with the Panthers, after he was dead to the rest of the world, to sift through the S.H.I.E.L.D. data released by the Black Widow during the Battle for the Triskelion, when she’d revealed that HYDRA had been growing in the heart of S.H.I.E.L.D., poisoning it from the inside. With some help from Mozzie and Sally, he’d found tidbits that added together to an indisputable conclusion - the Pink Panthers had been working for HYDRA. He also learned that his name had been on a “potential Asset” list, along with half a dozen other names, all of them Alpha con men and women. There was some older data, digitized from paper records belonging to something called the Red Room in Russia, of young women trained from birth to be deadly assassins, with only one of any year, any class, surviving to become the Black Widow, who was “enhanced” after surviving her graduation ceremony. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Widow had defected, but the list, held by HYDRA, of Red Room Widows dated back to the 1920s. While sifting through the Widows, he had seen a picture of Dottie Underwood, a perfect match to Rachel Turner. 

From what Steve had said, Neal didn’t think that he had any reason to trust Tony Stark. He’d been the one to activate the search protocol that ended in Steve being kidnapped by a ghost, an Alpha he had on good authority was dead. He’d been the one to go to Steve, telling him everything he already knew, without once thinking about how he’d put him in danger, with their searching. That being said, Steve trusted Tony, and Neal trusted Steve. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

With that in mind, he got in the nondescript black town car, this one driven by Tony Stark’s bodyguard/chauffeur, Happy Hogan, one of the calmest Betas Neal had ever met. Despite the advanced filtration system, there was a lingering scent of the cool mint and cinnamon candle pheromones associated with Alpha Pepper Potts, along with the barest hint of Tony Stark’s motor oil and expensive scotch. Happy had just dropped her off at Teterboro Airport, he learned on the drive to the Tower, as she was flying to Tokyo for business. 

Once at the Tower, Neal took the elevator from the underground parking garage up to the Avengers common floor. He knew the procedure, he knew that J.A.R.V.I.S. was scanning him, and was matching him up against what was in his FBI and Interpol files. J.A.R.V.I.S. was also logging his scent, something that had managed to stay out of his files, Peter adamant that putting the scent of a former protected witness into an accessible file could put other protected witnesses in danger. The elevator doors opened, and he was face-to-face with the assembled Avengers, on their turf, in their Tower. 

Years of practice, of training, kept him from cowering, kept his back and shoulders straight, and experience with one Widow had him meeting the eyes of another. He smiled, not quite the charming smile of the con man, but not his real smile, the smile Steve saw. 

The Avengers were standing, facing the elevator, with Tony Stark at the front, flanked by the Black Widow and Hawkeye. Bucky, Dr. Banner and a black man he didn’t know were seated at the table behind them, looking a bit uncomfortable with the situation. Bucky smiled slightly, as if to say that he was glad to see him again, despite the circumstances. 

He took a deep breath, relaxing the tension in his shoulders and removing the mask he’d put on when he’d called Stark. It wasn’t a physical mask, but a figurative one, one he used during his various cons and thefts. If he didn’t remove it, the Avengers would meet ruthless Gary Rydell, not Neal Caffrey. Dropping his Gary Rydell mask, Neal relaxed his shoulders and stance, allowing the Avengers to see him for the first time. At the table behind Stark, the attractive black man gave him a funny look, before laughing. He stood and walked up to Neal, hand extended. 

“Sam Wilson,” he said, shaking Neal’s offered hand. “Falcon.”

Neal’s smile became real, softening. “Steve talks about you a lot. It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“Same here,” Sam said. He was another preternaturally calm Beta. “He’s mentioned you a few times. Seems to think you hung the moon.”

“Stole it, more like,” Stark snarked, before Neal could respond. He took a step towards them, eyes threatening. Neal went tense, his mask creeping into his eyes. Sam slid between them even as Bucky stood from the table and started walking over. 

“We talked about this, Tony,” Sam said. “About how Steve clearly had a reason to keep Neal from us, even if we don’t completely understand his reasons, or agree with them.” He gave Stark a hard look, before continuing. “And he was right, wasn’t he? He said that our investigation might have put Neal in danger. Then Woodford escaped from prison, and Steve was kidnapped. Let’s put our animosity aside and figure out how to get Steve back?”

Next to Stark, Hawkeye nodded, stepping forward to shake Neal’s hand. “Clint Barton. Hawkeye.” Neal nodded, automatically creating a mental profile of the Beta. 

“You’re the one who trailed Steve that day.”

“Yeah, right to your gallery.” Clint snorted. “Should have chosen to follow you - you would have been more fun.” Neal grinned at him in agreement.

“Maybe.” He glanced around the room, pausing slightly on Dr. Banner, who as walking over to the small group by the elevator. 

“Bruce Banner,” the Beta said, extending his hand. He looked nervous, but calm, which was good. Neal wanted to meet the Hulk someday, but preferably not today. 

Romanov was still standing next to Stark, though her expression had softened almost imperceptibly. Stark still looked mutinous, though he seemed to be willing to work with Neal to rescue Steve. Taking a deep breath, reminding himself that he needed their help, he needed Stark’s help, to rescue Steve, Neal said, “I know who has Steve and I know where they took him.”

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Everyone was looking at Neal. It wasn’t an unusual experience for him to be the subject of harsh glares, but “everyone” rarely included the Black Widow and Tony Stark. He reminded himself that this Widow was, at least nominally, on his team, unlike the last Widow he’d encountered, who’d conned and almost killed him. 

“It was Matthew Keller. I have no idea _how_, since Peter shot him between the eyes in front of witnesses, but it was him. Moved like him. If that wasn’t enough, our front stoop reeked of him. There is nothing as distinctive as his gunpowder, tobacco ash, and blood pheromones mixed with Axe Body Spray.”

“You were shot point blank,” Romanov reminded him, as if he’d somehow forgotten.

“With a specially designed, paint splatter blank.” Neal’s smile was sharklike. “Followed up by a dose of tetrodotoxin-b. I have it on exceptionally good authority that you know exactly how that works.” Neal knew it wasn’t a good idea to taunt the Black Widow, but he couldn’t help himself. 

He should have seen her response coming, but it wasn’t the one he was expecting - she hit him with her Bites. He hadn’t seen them when he’d done his automatic weapons check of the Avengers, instead catching hidden several knives and a concealed pistol. It didn’t hurt as much as a TASER, but it wasn’t comfortable. Bucky, Sam, Bruce, and Clint were yelling as he went boneless and landed face first on the surprisingly soft carpet. She was stepping towards him when he passed out. 

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Neal slowly surfaced back into consciousness in a position he’d been in far too many times before - tied to a rolling office chair, his back to an apparently deserted elevator shaft. He shook his head to clear it as he looked around the room, taking in the Avengers. Unsurprisingly, Romanov was taking point on this part of the operation. Two things were surprising. The first was that Bucky Sam, Clint, and Bruce had let her do it. The second was that Stark had what looked like a construction zone that had been forgotten about in his Tower. 

“You know, I tend to want to know someone a lot better before I’m willing to do bondage play with them,” he said, flashing her his most charming smile, hands already busy behind him, working to untie the ropes. He wasn’t too worried about the inherent threat of being tossed down the elevator shaft. This time, at least. _The things I do for Steve_, he thought, making eye contact with Bucky over her shoulder. 

Romanov turned to face him, her face hard. She’d changed from the relaxed jeans she’s been wearing before into her black catsuit, two pistols at her hips, as if to remind him that she was the Black Widow, that he had chosen the wrong person to mess with. 

“Who are you, really?” she asked, resting her foot on the seat of the chair. She was good, he had to admit. If he hadn’t known how much Steve trusted her, he’d be complete convinced of her plans involving him and the elevator shaft. 

“Neal Caffrey.” Behind his back, he twisted his hands a few more times, freeing his left hand. He ran his thumb over his ring as he said, “I’m Steve Rogers’ Alpha and Mate.” He worked his right hand free, keeping both hands behind his back, and working the rope into position to keep the element of surprise. He would have one chance to make his move, if necessary. He hoped that Romanov would allow him to use his silver tongue to get out of this situation, not the rope in his hands. 

“You’re a thief and a con man,” Romanov said, rocking her foot slightly, causing the chair to move. 

“I _was_ a thief and a con man,” Neal corrected. “Now, I own an art gallery in Park Slope.”

“That gallery is owned by Elizabeth Mitchell,” Stark said. Neal nodded. 

“El supplied the start-up capital, that’s true.” Neal paused, considering. “I didn’t have the assets available when the space opened up. I’m slowly paying her back. Once I do, I’ll own the gallery outright. That’s in our contract. That’s why I say I own it.” 

“Elizabeth Mitchell married Peter Burke. Your former handler,” Romanov gave Neal a hard look. Neal shrugged. The silence stretched out, becoming awkward. Romanov nudged him with her foot.

“That wasn’t a question - it was two statements.” Neal grinned up at her. “You know, if you want answers, you’re going to have to ask questions. You’d think that would be part of ‘How to Interrogate 101’, but so many people seem to forget that step.” Romanov shoved the chair with her foot, rolling it a few feet. She watched him spin for a few moments, before stopping him with her foot, this time positioned against his crotch. She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Still didn’t ask me a question,” Neal said, unable to stop himself from taunting the Widow. She tilted her head at him, considering. “Look, I really don’t know what you’re after. I don’t have anything you would want, and I don’t have access to anything you would want.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Unless you like post-modern abstract art. There’s a new show starting at the gallery in about a week.” She shoved the chair with her foot again, this time rolling Neal against the elevator doors. She stalked forward. 

“You don’t smell like an Alpha,” she said, leaning forward, foot back against the chair. Neal smiled up at her, waiting for her to lean forward just a bit more. 

“I’m a low drive Alpha,” he said, working his hands around the rope. “It’s something Steve seems to like.” Neal glanced at Bucky, who was watching the proceedings with a thoughtful eye. He may have met Neal earlier and learned his story, but the Avengers were his teammates. 

“How can we be sure you didn’t con Steve into Mating with you?” Tony asked, stepping towards them. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Neal.

“You can’t,” Neal admitted. “You can believe what you want to believe, or you can trust Steve’s judgement. Like he trusts yours.” Neal braced himself to be spun around the room again. 

Instead of kicking the chair, Romanov tilted her head, considering something. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Neal nodded, and murmured a response in Russian. She stepped back, eyeing him speculatively, before asking him another question. Bucky smirked slightly. 

This went on for a few minutes, Romanov asking Neal questions in Russian and him replying in kind. Tony looked like he was kicking himself for not learning Russian, and Bucky was openly smirking. After Neal responded to a question with a defiant shake of his head and a blistering retort, she smiled at him 

“You can let go of the rope you’re holding,” she said, switching to English for the benefit of the rest of the team. 

“Thank you,” Neal said, shifting in his seat as he dropped the ropes that had appeared to be holding him and stood. He rubbed his wrists, resettling his cufflinks, before extending his right hand. 

“Can we make a pact not to follow or actively threaten each other? I know I don’t like it when people I’m supposed to trust follow me or threaten to throw me down elevator shafts, and I doubt you do, either.” He smiled slightly, before becoming serious again. “Deal?”

She studied him for a moment before shaking his hand. “Deal. And call me Natasha.” Neal grinned at her, glad that they’d come to a truce, and hoped it wasn’t a temporary one. He was reasonably sure he would find her in their townhouse, unannounced, at some point. Which, really, was how Mozzie operated, so it wouldn’t be that odd. He made a mental note to buy a bottle of good vodka and stick it in the freezer. He didn’t doubt she enjoyed good wine, but Steve had mentioned how much she enjoyed a good vodka.

With Natasha’s acceptance of Neal, the tension in the room relaxed, allowing the Avengers to get back on track with looking for Steve. 

“You said you’re sure Keller took Steve, and you know where he took him,” Sam said, “How can you know that?”

“Because he would take Steve to where it all began, where we both died - the tunnels under Wall Street.” Neal looked at the Avengers. “I’m sure you know how that played out?”

“Keller shot you, Burke shot Keller,” Clint said. “You said you were shot with a blank, but Keller was shot by an FBI agent. How did that work?”

“No idea,” Neal said, shaking his head. “I read the report, and saw photographs of the shooting. Peter was investigated by the Office of Professional Responsibility and went through a hearing on whether he’d made a good decision, killing Keller. It was ruled a justified shot.” Neal paused, tilting his head to the side, and glancing at Stark, who was studying the tablet in his hands. “Do you have something?” Stark nodded absently. 

“Something very interesting,” Stark said, tapping a few things on his screen. He flicked his fingers, and whatever he was looking at projected itself on a holographic screen as the windows dimmed. “This says that Brock Rumlow signed for and collected Keller’s body.” 

“Rumlow? That HYDRA dude from the Strike Team?” Sam asked. “The one Wanda…?” He made a gesture. 

“Yeah, him,” Tony said, concentrating on something. “Survived the Triskelion falling on his head, later called himself Crossbones.” 

“Neal, you look like you’re having a thought,” Bucky said. Neal nodded. 

“I had some time, after everything, to read through the data Natasha dumped.” He paused, nodding at her. “I read about the Red Room, and an early Black Widow, Dottie Underwood. While I knew her as Rebecca Lowe, and INTERPOL knew her as Rachel Turner, it was the same person. The Red Room data said that the Widows were “enhanced” at the end of their training.” 

Natasha nodded. “Amongst many other things, yes, we were given injections.” Her eyes flicked to Bucky. 

“Here’s my leap in logic. It’s a big one.” Neal paused again, clearly considering something. “What if… what if HYDRA had access to that serum that was used to “enhance” the Widows? Your Rumlow may have received some. So could Keller, though I hesitate to speculate on why that would have happened…” Neal trailed off, considering something, before his eyes grew wide. “Wait… in the data dump, I found a list of ‘potential Assets’. Keller and I were on it, as were other Alpha con men and women I recognized - Alexandra Hunter, Gordon Taylor, Alan Woodford, Vincent Adler, Scott Lang, Georges Batroc, Barney Barton, Remy LeBeau.”

“HYDRA had access to something else.” Stark tapped the screen of his tablet, displaying SI documents from the 1990s on the screens. “HYDRA killed my parents, on the same night that Howard was transporting a variant of the Erskine Serum.”

“HYDRA used it to create more Winter Soldiers, but something went wrong and they couldn’t be controlled,” Bucky said, eyes heavy, as he shook his head. “They were put on ice until HYDRA could figure out how to control them.”

“So it’s possible that Keller received something similar?” Neal asked, giving Bucky a look. “Something that would allow him to survive being shot between the eyes?”

“I can survive that,” Bruce said softly, “and my variant serum is corrupted by gamma radiation.” 

“Steve or I could survive that,” Bucky said. He stated it as though it were a known fact, and not something vaguely terrifying. “Especially if I was immediately put on ice, to give the serum a chance to heal.”

“So Keller’s enhanced?” Neal asked. “That’s a scary thought.”

“If you’re sure that Keller was the person who kidnapped Steve, then, yeah, it looks like it.” Bucky nodded. 

“So Steve was taken off the street by an enhanced Alpha, who may or may not be working with an organization who wants me dead. And that enhanced Alpha more than likely received a not-so-stable variation of the very serum in Steve’s veins.” Neal paused. “And to think that just last week, my only worry was Steve being recognized on the subway.” 

“Do you think that Woodford’s escape from prison may be coincidental to Steve being taken?” Natasha asked. It was something she had considered, but didn’t think was likely. It wouldn’t have been likely, even if Alexander Pierce hadn’t met with him just before his escape. 

“No, but I don’t think he’s pulling the strings.” Neal paused. “I think he had help escaping, so that attention would be focused on him. The more attention focused on him, the more he’s believed to be orchestrating the entire thing, the less likely anyone is to look into who took Steve and find the HYDRA connection.”

“You think he’s the fall guy,” Stark said. “He takes the blame and HYDRA gets away.”

“If Keller doesn’t kill him first, since he’d be able to identify the HYDRA connection, yes.” Neal’s expression turned serious. “We’ve got to act fast and get Steve free if we want to learn who’s really pulling the strings.” 

“Then, as Cap would say, let’s suit up,” Clint said, picking up his wrist guards and bracers.


	15. Chapter 14 : order can only be achieved through pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is held captive by HYDRA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The HYDRA operative holding Steve captive acts very creepy, very Alpha, towards him, and insults Neal, using a variety of slurs towards Alphas and Omega. See details in end note (spoilers).

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/63/3a/x39A0KGc_o.jpg)

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Steve had gotten into the car willingly. As willingly as he could, when at gunpoint, at least. He did his best to memorize the details of the car, but it was a remarkably nondescript black town car, with the windows heavily tinted and the plates obscured. He’s been stepping off of his front stoop to get into the car he’d thought had been driven by Happy, only for an unknown Alpha to step out of the car. 

He was dressed in a dark grey suit and a dark blue Oxford shirt, not as well fitted as Tony’s suits but not ill-fitting, with the collar open. He had dark brown hair and dark eyes, and was looking at Steve in a way that reminded him of Rumlow. He stalked towards Steve, and gestured imperiously to the phone in Steve’s hand. Steve looked at him, saying, “Who are you? Uh, Tony?”

The strange Alpha rolled his eyes as he pulled a gun from inside his jacket and aimed it at Steve. He twitched it slightly, wiggling his fingers at the phone. Steve handed over the phone, hoping that the Avengers realized something was wrong, since he hadn’t thought to use his distress phrase. Pressing the phone to his ear, the Alpha said “Let Caffrey know you’re coming with me, Stevie-boy” before tossing the phone into the gutter. He motioned Steve into the backseat of the car with the gun, sliding in beside him, and tucking the gun back into his concealed holster. 

“Now, I know you have no idea who I am, but I know all about you, Stevie-boy.” The Alpha relaxed into the seat, his gunpowder, tobacco ash, and blood pheromones strong and thick in the confined space, almost strong enough to make Steve react to them, despite his heavy duty suppressants. The Alpha gave him a look. “The name’s Matthew Keller. Ah, that’s right, you have heard of me, haven’t you?”

“I’ve read the FBI report.” Steve kept his tone neutral.

“That old thing? It won’t tell you half the story.” Keller sprawled in the seat, looking at Steve in a way that was just shy of lecherous. “I won’t tell you what I went through to survive.”

“How did you survive?” Steve asked when it became clear Keller wanted him to ask. 

“I’m glad you asked.” Keller smirked at Steve. “Let’s just say that order can only be achieved through pain. And I was ready for mine. You get what I’m sayin?”

Steve’s earpiece had been damaged by the time Sam had taken on Rumlow in hand-to-hand combat during the fight at the Triskelion, but he’d heard all about the Alpha’s speech on order and pain. And how Sam had held his own against the enhanced agent, who’d then survived the building falling on his head. Having seen the video and read the reports, Steve didn’t have to ask what the Alpha next to him meant. 

“Brock Rumlow said something rather similar to Sam Wilson a few years ago. Then a building fell on his head.” Steve gave Keller a questioning look, before adding, “looks like I’m not going to be quite so lucky.” 

Keller made a frustrated sound, something between a laugh and a huff. “Rumlow was an idiot, believed that the blue goo was immortality without strings. Had he but realized that, he’d have survived the Triskelion without so much as a scar.” Keller tapped the spot on his forehead where Agent Burke had shot him with one finger, showing that he’d healed from what should have been a mortal injury without a scar. “I’m told I owe my continued survival to a tech on the Winter Soldier team. HYDRA claimed my body, and the tech ran an unsanctioned resuscitation routine on me, one they’d perfected on their freezer pop. They were surprised it worked, so they stuffed me into a cryotube until they could figure out what to do with me. I healed as HYDRA fell.”

“Was this before or after you received the… goo?” Steve asked, curious when Keller trailed off. “Blue goo” sounded suspiciously like the serum, or a variant thereof. 

“After.” Keller looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment, then handed Steve a glass of what smelled like scotch that he’d pulled from seemingly nowhere. “This is laced with a sedative that works on even you. You drink it, or we do this the hard way.” Steve took the glass and downed it in one swallow. “Good boy.” 

Whatever the drug was, it took effect almost immediately, with Steve’s eyelids drooping. He fought to keep them open, but the closed of their own accord. Within a minute he was slumped unconscious in the back seat, and missed Keller pushing back his right sleeve and rubbing their wrists together. 

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Steve slowly came back to consciousness, blinking the blurriness from his eyes. The world swam as he attempted to focus on what was going on, the argument happening between two Alphas. One was Keller, his fuzzy brain supplied, but he didn’t know the other one. He was also strapped to a lab table, he realized belatedly. There was an IV stand next to him, a bag of a viscous looking blue goop dangling from the hook, but nothing had been attached to him. He tested the straps, realized that he wasn’t going to be able to break free, and decided to focus on figuring out who Keller was arguing with. 

The other Alpha, for Steve could smell his musky citrus and sandalwood pheromones despite the closed door between them, was insisting that he was supposed to be in charge of this part of the operation, and that someone named “Pearce” was ultimately responsible. 

“Don’t get too high above your station, Keller,” the voice said. “I read the reports. Are you so sure that you could survive that a second time?”

“Says the man who was a model prisoner. You didn’t even attempt to bribe the guards.” Keller’s voice was getting closer to the laboratory like room Steve was in. He pushed the door open, forcing the other Alpha into the room at gunpoint. The new Alpha was wearing a pair of fitted black slacks and a dark burgundy Oxford, and did not look happy. 

“Pierce would not be happy to know that you’re attempting to step on my operation,” he said, even as he sat on the other laboratory table, lying down with clear reluctance. 

“Your operation?” Keller sounded surprised. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any Panthers around here. Pink or otherwise.” He holstered the gun, secured the other Alpha to the lab table, and pulled the IV stand over, expertly hooking the bag of blue goop to tubing and inserting a needle into the stranger’s arm, talking the entire time about this Pierce.

“That duplicitous bastard.” A glance revealed the Alpha was glaring at the bag of blue goo Keller had hooked up to him. “I should have known better than to trust a word he said. He said he didn’t have it.” 

“And you believed him? Alexander Pierce? The Head of HYDRA?” Keller snorted, turning back to Steve. “Stevie-boy, meet Alan Woodford, the leader of a gang of thieves called the Pink Panthers, who routinely did HYDRA’s dirty work for them. Woodford, meet Captain bleeding America. In case you can’t smell him from over there, Stevie here is Caffrey’s Omega.”

“Caffrey, huh? That explains why Pierce came to me. I’m the fall guy.” He didn’t look too worried, either about being the fall guy or about the blue goop that had begun to make its way into his veins. If anything, he seemed remarkably relaxed. “I assume I’ll learn why you’ve hooked me up this before too long.” 

“You will.” Keller’s attention was focused on Steve, his gunpowder, tobacco ash, and blood pheromones spiking slightly. “It contains a strong sedative, so you’re going to miss the fireworks. That shit burns. Should you survive the infusion, you’ll be glad you were unconscious for it.”

Woodford shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. Steve had no idea how he could be so calm, hooked up to an unknown substance, especially one that might kill him. He smirked at Steve before seeming to fall asleep. Keller turned back to him, checking his pulse and attaching him to a few monitors. Steve sighed in relief when he saw that Woodford’s vitals were in the low end of the normal range, appearing to be out of the worst of the danger. Once he was finished making sure that Woodford properly was hooked up to both the blue stuff and 4 monitors, he turned back to Steve. He pulled a chair out of somewhere, and flipped it around, straddling it. 

Steve eyed him speculatively, not sure what his plans were. His gut clenched in a very specific way, and he realized, with dawning horror, that his suppressants had run out. Making sure to keep his expression unchanged, Steve attempted to remember if he’d taken his suppressant pill before he left. He was near the end of his cycle and a medically-necessary Heat would be upon him in a few days, so it wasn’t completely unexpected that he was going into Heat, with the stress of the kidnapping and the sheer amount of Alpha pheromones Keller was pumping out. 

He was also, he realized, screwed, no matter how he looked at it. Hopefully, the Avengers would figure out that he had been kidnapped, discover where he was being held, and get to the location before he was in full-blown heat. Even if they couldn’t get him to Neal, his paperwork listed Scott Lang as his emergency Alpha, from the days before he’d met Neal and needed an Alpha on his SHIELD paperwork. He’d talked with Neal about his paperwork, and they’d decided that having an Avenger as his emergency Alpha was a good idea. 

While Steve was lost in his thoughts, Keller was studying him, with an openly lecherous gaze. “Captain blooming America takes it up the ass like the good little Omega he is. Can’t believe it. HYDRA made sure I knew you were a housewife, but I didn’t believe it until earlier today. And from Neal Caffrey?! Is his knot as wimpy as the rest of ‘im?” Keller asked. Steve glared at the Alpha, not liking where this seemed to be going. 

“That was a serious question, Stevie-boy, as I’ve known him for years, and not once had he gone into anything resembling a proper Rut.” Keller paused, clearly considering something as he stood. “You know, I always thought Caffrey was one of them queer Alphas, who prefer taking it from other Alphas. Would explain a lot, that would. Always wondered what his relationship was like with the Burkes. A Beta with an Alpha that pretty? Both of them, even. Man has a type, that’s for sure.” 

Steve glared up at him as he leaned over him, sniffing him. Keller’s eyes darkened as he caught the scent of pre-Heat on Steve, and he grinned again. He leaned even further down, his nose almost brushing Steve’s neck. He reached out with his right hand, went to run it down Steve’s cheek, and Steve was unable to withhold his instinctive shudder away from him. Keller laughed and rubbed the knuckles of his hand along Steve’s cheek, seeming to enjoy the way Steve tried to get away from him. He leaned in again, as if to kiss Steve, and Steve decided he’d had enough of the unwanted touching, and snapped his head up and into Keller’s nose. He heard the satisfying crunch that indicated he’d successfully broken his nose, and smirked as he rolled as far away from the now cursing Keller as he could. 

“You fucker,” Keller snarled. “You broke my fucking nose.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door as he left. Steve took advantage of being fully awake to look around the laboratory, seeing if he could find a way to escape. He saw the exposed ductwork, the lack of windows, and the curvature of the ceiling and thought the lab was in a tunnel somewhere, though he didn’t have any idea where the tunnel might be. Woodford’s vitals were still stable, and Steve realized that he’d forgotten about the other Alpha while Keller had been talking to him. Keller stalked back into the lab, holding a handkerchief to his no-longer bleeding nose. He glared at Steve, clearly trying to decide what he was going to do, when his phone beeped. 

He pulled it out, and smirked at the screen. “Looks like your boy’s figured it out, I’ll give him that.” Keller tapped the screen a few times. “Looks like he came alone, which is not that bright of him.” He turned his phone around and showed the screen to Steve, who noticed the slight glint of red and gold against Neal’s wrist, something that stood out against his dark grey suit. 

“I don’t think he came alone,” Steve said when Keller pulled the phone back. “He’s wearing Iron Man bracelets. And everyone knows Tony is one of my teammates, don’t they?” Keller cursed again, closely inspecting the video footage. Steve got a brief impression of Neal waving at the camera before it went dark. 

“You might want to check your other cameras,” Steve said. “That had all the hallmarks of a J.A.R.V.I.S. take down. And we know he’s working with Tony.” Keller snarled something unintelligible at Steve and stalked out of the room, pheromones strong.

Steve relaxed when he left, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the Avengers got there. Based on the Heat he could feel rising across his skin, they couldn’t get there soon enough. This Heat was going to be a doozy, he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creepy Alpha : Keller rubs his wrist along Steve's when Steve is unconscious. He later runs his fingers across Steve's face when Steve is tied to a lab table, and leans in as if to kiss him. Steve breaks his nose. That's as far as it goes with Keller, as the Avengers arrive to rescue Steve soon after. 
> 
> Insults : Keller calls Steve a "housewife," says he "takes it up the ass," and calls Neal "queer."


	16. Chapter 15 : Everyone will know there’s an Omega in Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes into Heat.

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/56/7c/qARafMsr_o.jpg)

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It wasn’t long after Keller stalked out of the lab room to investigate whether the Avengers had found his not-so-secret hideout, that Steve heard the distinctive whine of Tony’s Repulsors, and knew that his team had come to his rescue. The Repulsors got closer and closer, until there was a loud banging sound as the door blew off the hinges and across the room, revealing Iron Man, hand raised.

“You know, the over-under on which one of the Omega Avengers would be found in a position most reminiscent of a bad porno…” Tony popped his helmet as he spoke, the suit thudding as he walked over to Steve and started cutting him out of the restraints. 

“I’d bet I wasn’t very high on the list,” Steve said with a smile. It was great to see Tony. Steve had missed seeing him and the rest of his team, missed training with them. 

“Third of three,” Tony confirmed. He finished freeing Steve’s arms and quickly went to work freeing his legs. “They got you good. This is a vibranium alloy, similar to your shield. Any idea who’s behind this?”

“Keller named Alexander Pierce when taunting Woodford.” Steve rubbed his wrists and shook the kinks out of his muscles from being strapped to the table for hours as he sat up.

“Is that who that is? What’s the blue goo and why’s he out like a light?” Tony asked, turning his attention to Woodford. 

“Alan Woodford. In the flesh.” Steve pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling the cramping that preceded his Heat. He felt himself flush, and knew that Tony could smell his situation. He hoped he wouldn’t induce Sympathy Heat, something he knew Tony was susceptible to. “Keller didn’t explicitly state it, but I’m positive that’s a Serum variant. It contains some sort of sedative.” 

“I’ll have Sam come and take a look at it.” Tony’s helmet snapped up for a moment, before popping back down, reminding Steve that Tony needed new comms, in case something happened and he couldn’t close his helmet to talk to the team. Or he was separated from the suit, or someone hit him with an EMP that knocked out his connection to J.A.R.V.I.S.

“Sam? Why not Bruce?” Steve asked absently. “Where’s Neal?”

“Your Alpha Romeo took exception to Keller having your scent on him.” Tony glanced back at Steve, who had a humorous look on his face, like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, Bruce is refereeing. Natasha and Clint are clearing the tunnels, but it looks like Keller was working more or less alone. Just the handful of guards who took one look at Natasha and bolted. Apparently, whatever he was paying them wasn’t worth going up against the Black Widow.”

“Not Iron Man? You must be slipping in the hired goon poll.” Steve smiled slightly, before adding, “make arrangements for Woodford to be taken back into custody. And make sure Bruce has Neal leave Keller alive. I don’t want to know what happens when one deceased Alpha kills another deceased Alpha using the Mate and Child Defense Act.”

“Will do, Cap.” Tony said as Sam stepped into the lab room. “Got a patient for you, birdy. He’s been hooked up to something Steve says is likely a serum variant, and a sedative.”

“Hmmm, his vitals are good, if low,” Sam said as he looked at the displays on the monitors. “I wouldn’t remove the drip from him, even though we don’t know what it is, since it could have dangerous side effects if he doesn’t get the whole dose. I’d suggest moving him to the medical wing of the Tower and keeping an eye on him. Handcuff him to the bed, though.”

“Not gonna work on that one, handcuffs - he can pick them or slip them with no problem,” Neal said as he walked through the doors. His suit was rumpled and there was the barest beginning of a bruise on his right cheekbone, but otherwise he looked normal. He pulled the Iron Man bracelets off his wrists and handed them to Tony, saying, “here, that should be enough for a conviction in any court of law.” 

“You would know,” Tony muttered as he took the bracelets, his suit disassembling itself. He put the homing bracelets on, asking Neal how he got the evidence.

“You would be amazed what having an Omega you’d previously strapped to a table break your nose will do to an Alpha.” Neal stepped over to Woodford, nodding slightly. “Keller said that this was a serum variant, and taunted me that we were too late to save him.”

Sam made a face. “His vitals are fine. We’re going to take him back to the Tower, where we can keep a better eye on him, but his vitals seem fine. Where is Keller? Did you leave him in one piece?”

“He’s in the van, under the watchful eye of a terrifying brunette named Maria, and Bruce.” Neal seemed unconcerned, and unbothered by the Heat hormones Steve was pumping out. They were getting stronger in the presence of his Mate. Tony left, saying he was going to arrange for medical transport to the Tower. 

“I think we need to get somewhere more private,” Steve said. He knew he was flushed, a sheen of sweat on his face, and he could feel himself leaking. It wouldn’t be long before he had the unstoppable urge to fuck himself on Neal’s knot. Or Scott’s knot. Or Sharon Carter’s knot. Or even Keller’s knot. Steve pulled himself away from that chain of thought, reminding himself that he did not want to knot any Alpha in a lab in a tunnel under Manhattan. Knotting could wait until he was back in his quarters at the Tower. 

“We’re closer to the Tower than your townhouse,” Sam said. He reached out and took Steve’s pulse. “You going to last that long?”

“I’ll be fine, Sam.” Steve took a few deep breaths. “I’ve been in worse situations before. At least the only Alpha here isn’t very territorial.”

“Unlike Dum Dum, you mean? That man thought we were _his_, no matter what Peggy told him,” Bucky said, stepping into the room. “I’m supposed to help Sam carry this Woodford person to the transport, but I think I should help get Steve to the Tower.” 

“How do you suppose we do that?” Neal asked. “I’m holding on to my control by a hair's breadth as it is. There’s no way I could get in an enclosed space with my Mate unless you want to see something you probably don’t want to.”

“We used to share Heats and Alphas. I’ve seen Steve on Peggy’s knot.” Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve, helping him stand up. They missed the look Sam and Neal exchanged. 

“We’re only a few blocks from the Tower, right?” Sam asked after a moment. “Do you think you could walk there?”

“I can do that,” Steve said, gritting his teeth. He could feel how wet and open he was getting. The feeling of being empty, of _wanting_, would soon be overwhelming. “Everyone on the street will know there’s an Omega at the start of their Heat cycle, but I can walk to the Tower.”

“They’ll assume it’s me, Stevie,” Bucky said. “That little tidbit was on my memorial at the Smithsonian, remember?” 

“Surprised it wasn’t released about me at some point, with the Omega rights movement and everything. I wonder what they bribed the Howlies with, to keep that out of their memoirs.” Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, resisting the urge to press a hand to his aching dick or his leaking hole. This was going to be a hard walk back to the Tower. 

“Who would believe them?” Bucky asked as they walked. 

“Neal, sweetie, would you go to the Tower and get things ready for me?” Steve asked, hand pressed against his stomach. “I’m not sure I’ll be in the presence of mind to do anything but ride your knot when I get to the Tower.”

“Don’t say things like that, unless you want to be knotted in here,” Neal said tensely, already stepping backwards out of the room. He blew Steve a kiss as he left. 

“He knows to ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to take you to your floor?” Sam asked. Steve nodded, making a soft sound. 

“I hope so?” Steve admitted. They’d made it out of the lab, but it was very slow going. 

“I’m going to see if Tony will get us a car to get you back to the Tower before your Heat fully hits,” Sam said, walking quickly out of the tunnels. Steve pressed the palm of his hand against his crotch, moaning slightly. He thrust against his hand a few times, before remembering where he was and forcing himself to stop. He was stronger than his biology, stronger than his Heat.

“Need to take the edge off?” Bucky asked. “You’ve got time before the car gets here.”

“If I do, I won’t be able to stop until this Heat is over, and I’m not really into exhibitionism.” Steve’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to put it back against crotch. He took a few steps, before asking, “did Scott come with you?”

“No, he’s still at the Tower.” Bucky kept them moving forward, until they got to where the Avengers had set up a command post, one of Tony’s many black cars pulling up. The driver got out, and Sam slid into the driver’s seat, Clint into the front seat. “Car’s here.”

The trip to the Tower was a blur to Steve, who was grateful that the Betas Sam and Clint had escorted him, as their pheromones had helped ground him, even at the cusp of Heat. With their help, Bucky got him to his floor. 

Neal had been busy, creating something that resembled a Heat nest. While it wasn’t the same as the one Steve usually made, it was full of pillows and extra blankets and looked incredibly soft. Neal was breathing hard and his pupils were blown, the only things that gave away that he was reacting at all to Steve’s Heat pheromones. His hair was wet, and he was wearing a bathrobe, indicating that he’d grabbed an incredibly fast shower. He thanked Clint, Sam, and Bucky for helping get Steve to the Tower, closed the door, and engaged the full privacy mode. 

While he was doing that, Steve took a quick shower, removing the grime of having been in the tunnels under Manhattan. Once clean, he wrapped a hand around his hard and leaking dick. It took a few strokes for him to come, barely taking the edge off. Still stroking his dick, he reached behind him and slide two fingers inside of his leaking hole, pressing against his glands, making sure he would be ready to take Neal’s knot as soon as he was out of the shower. He twisted his fingers and came a second time. He stroked himself through it, thrusting his finger against his glands. He felt a gush of slick, and knew he was ready. He slid his fingers out of body, shut of the water, and grabbed a towel. It took all of his inner strength not to immediately thrust into the fabric as he perfunctorily dried himself off. He could feel himself leaking slick, and grabbed his bathrobe from the back of the door, giving his dick a few strokes as he did. He put the robe on, but didn’t close it, enjoying the feel of the fabric against his dick. With a groan, he pulled open the door, and went to the nest. 

He could hear Neal gathering supplies from the kitchen, and threw himself on the bed, groaning. He slid his fingers back inside his slick hole and whined when they weren’t enough, pulling them off to stroke himself with. Neal came into the bedroom with a bag of supplies, which he immediately put down, and took his robe off revealing a hard dick with the beginnings of a knot. He walked to the bed, pulling Steve’s hand off his dick as he dropped between Steve’s spread legs. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, before stroking him to another climax. 

While Steve was still coming, Neal reached under the pillows, pulled out a box of condoms and rolled one on. He slid his fingers into Steve’s hole, making sure he could take his knot. Once sure, he thrust in, letting Steve feel his knot, before pulling out and doing it again. He fucked Steve in strong, sure thrusts, and slid a hand between them to stroke his dick.

“You gonna come this way?” He asked, punctuating his question with a hard thrust and a twist of his wrist. Steve moaned something unintelligible and came, spurting over his hand. With one last thrust, Neal pushed his knot into Steve’s body. He felt Steve clamp down on him, squeezing his knot tightly, and came, emptying himself into the condom. Steve’s eyes cleared slightly of Heat, and he smiled sappily at Neal, who thrust carefully, working Steve through his climax. 

“Better?” He asked. 

“Much,” Steve murmured, leaning up to kiss Neal. They made out while they were knotted, stopping when Neal’s knot loosened enough for him to pull out. Taking advantage of Steve’s lucidity, he gave him a water bottle and encouraged him to drink it, knowing they might not have many chances during future rounds. Steve continued to smile sappily up at Neal sipping his water. It wasn’t too long before he moaned, put the water on the bedside table, and spread his legs to encourage Neal to fuck him again. Neal did, putting on a condom, before fucking him until he came and then knotting him. He kept that up, fucking and then knotting Steve, until Steve’s Heat broke a few days later. 

After his Heat broke, Steve and Neal cuddled, enjoying relaxing in each other’s arms. They checked Steve’s messages and discovered that the Avengers wanted a debrief as soon as he was available. 

While they were getting dressed, Steve turned to Neal. “I was thinking, after my Heat broke. You’ve met the Avengers and they’ve met you. I know my team will make sure Pierce and HYDRA are tracked down and arrested. What do you say about being brought back to life? We could have that boathouse wedding you’ve always wanted.”


	17. Chapter 16 : several biochemical markers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers debrief after Steve's Heat

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/83/08/5gFiVd7w_o.jpg)

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The morning after Steve’s Heat finished, the Avengers met for a debrief on what had happened. Steve had a well-fucked look about him, and was showing no ill effects from being held captive by Keller. Neal, however, looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and he was walking stiffly, as if every muscle in his body hurt. He rested his head on his arms, as if he could fall asleep at the conference table. 

“Sympathy hormones not kick in?” Sam asked, wincing. Neal shook his head. 

“They never do,” he said, groaning as he sat upright.

“They should. Has anyone ever checked you out?” Sam asked, concerned. 

“No, they didn’t give a damn when I was in prison, and I never took a Heat partner when I was with the FBI,” Neal turned in his chair to face the Beta, noticing Sam’s expression. “Something wrong?”

“Shouldn’t be serious,” Sam said with a shrug, “but I’d like to have you checked out, take some blood tests, make sure everything’s working, so the Sympathy Rut hormones kick in for Steve’s next Heat.”

Neal groaned and buried his head in his hands again. “Don’t remind me,” he said, voice muffled. 

“Easiest thing would be for Steve to take a Heat-delayer, right when he starts going into Heat.” Everyone, even Neal, turned to look at Tony, who shrugged. “Pep had the same problem, few years back, and my Heats were not something she looked forward to. That fixed it right up.” 

“_Now_ he tells me,” Neal muttered, sitting back up to take a cup of coffee from Natasha with a murmur of thanks. She smiled slightly and took a seat next to him, sipping on her own coffee. 

“Are we all here?” Tony asked, tapping something on his tablet. The lights dimmed and the shades came down, darkening the room and drawing attention to the main screen. “Let’s start the debrief by getting Cap up to speed on what happened to Keller, Woodford, and Pierce.”

“Did you learn what was in the IV?” Steve asked. 

“Something that bore a resemblance to the serum on a molecular level, according to our resident expert,” Tony said, gesturing to Bruce, who ducked his head. 

“Given several biochemical markers, I tentatively placed it as being created in the 1990s, so it was likely part of the batch Howard Stark was transporting when HYDRA had him killed,” Bruce said with a shrug. “It was remarkably stable, for having spent the better part of thirty years on ice.” 

“What happened to Woodford?” Steve asked. “Keller said that it might kill him.”

“He doesn’t seem all that different than what’s in his file,” Sam said. “He’s wouldn’t say anything about how he ended up hooked up to that IV in the tunnels under Manhattan until we showed him a snippet of Natasha’s interrogation of Keller. Then he sang like a bird. Told us everything, including how the Pink Panthers were working for HYDRA on occasion and how Pierce contracted him to capture Steve. He realized he’d been double-crossed when Keller showed up at the prison. Between him and Keller, we have enough to ensure that Pierce spends the rest of his life in Fort Deadlock.”

“Keller spend most of his interrogation cursing Pierce,” Natasha said. “He didn’t speak very highly of him, and seemed to think that he wasn’t as good as he once was.”

“What about the serum. Did he really get it?” Steve asked. When everyone looked at him, he continued, “he told me that’s how he survived.”

“His and Woodford’s blood show the same biochemical markings found in the goo in the IV.” Everyone looked at Bruce, who grimaced. “Yes, he appears to have received the serum.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” Neal asked, carefully standing and slowly walking to the refreshment table to get more coffee.

“They’re going to be processed into Fort Deadlock, under the supervision of Everett Ross.” Everyone turned to look at Clint, who explained for Neal that Agent Ross was a former CIA agent who was one of the few outsiders trusted by T’Challa, King of Wakanda. “We don’t really know what happened in Wakanda, but when Ross decided he wanted to work with us on supervillain containment, T’Challa recommended him.” 

“What about Pierce?” Steve asked. “Has there been any sign of him anywhere?”

“Keller knew where he was,” Natasha said with a shark-like smile. “We were planning on storming the place until we learned it was a 5-star hotel, hosting a gala. Tony and I infiltrated it, made our way up to his room, and incapacitated him before he could react.”

“He won’t be bothering us any longer, that one,” Tony added. “Ross took exception to him still being alive, something about the INSIGHT data dump. He’s not getting out of Fort Deadlock any time soon. Neither will Woodford or Keller.”

Neal nodded as he sat down, doing his best to hide a wince. “What about the rest of it? The tunnels?”

“We cleared them while you and Steve were getting it on,” Tony said. “I was able to recover some data from Keller’s phone and his computer, but it’s all encrypted and J.A.R.V.I.S. has yet to break the cipher.”

“It’s a HYDRA cipher that predates me,” Natasha said, “and Bucky doesn’t recognize it at all, so we don’t have anything to go on. How are your code-breaking skills?”

“Not great. Mozzie was always the code-breaker.” Neal paused, realizing that he’d voluntarily given information on one of his former associates, sighed, and continued, “If you want him to take a look at it, I can put you in contact with him.”

“We may take you up on that offer, depending on if we can crack it in the next few days,” Tony admitted. 

“Is there anything I need to do, or did you do everything while I was in Heat?” 

“We did everything, Cap. Brought Keller and Pierce back to life, examined the blue goo and determined it was a serum variant, and handed everyone off to Ross at Fort Deadlock,” Tony said, pausing slightly. “We didn’t bring your Alpha Romeo back to life, though we have the paperwork.”

“How difficult was it to bring Keller and Pierce back to life?” Steve asked, curious. 

“In this age of superheroes and supervillains? Not at all.” Tony shrugged. “Since we were sending them straight to prison, at least. It might be harder for someone who wants a passport. Why?”

“I want to go public with my relationship with Neal, and he needs to be alive for that,” Steve said with a straight face. Clint coughed around a mouthful of coffee, and Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“That is usually important, Cap,” Tony drawled, already tapping away on his tablet. “What does your HubCap think of this?”

“I want to legal marry him, so our Mated bond is recognized,” Neal said. 

“At the boathouse in Prospect Park.” Steve glanced at all of the Avengers. “You’re all invited, of course.” 

“Dibs on being Steve’s best man,” Bucky said, beating Natasha.

“Peter will stand for me,” Neal said. 

“Let’s get you back to life,” Steve said, smiling at Neal. “Then we can start planning the wedding.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Neal leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips, before returning his attention to Tony. “What do I need to do facilitate being brought back to life?”

“You’re going to have to fill out a lot of forms,” Tony said, handing Neal a tablet. “Start with those. Steve, while he’s filing, we need to have an Avengers debrief in the common area.”

Steve nodded, pressed his hand to Neal’s shoulder, and headed to the elevator with the Avengers, leaving Clint to sit with Neal. 

“What’s the Avengers’ debrief about?” he asked as they reached the common floor. “Do we have a mission?” He couldn’t think of anything that needed their attention, but he’d been indisposed for the last few days.

“No, it’s an apology, Cap,” Tony said. “From me to you.”

“If anything, I should be apologizing to you,” Steve said. “Apologizing for not trusting you.”

“Accepted.” Tony extended his hand, shaking Steve’s. “So long as you promise not to do it again.”

“I promise, Tony. I promise all of you.” Steve stepped into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He pulled out mixing bowls and cups from the cabinet, before pulling out the ingredients for pancakes. He mixed up the batter while the coffee brewed, letting it sit as he heated up the frying pan. He put the first of the batter on the pan, poured the coffee into the insulated container he liked, and was flipping the pancakes when Clint brought Neal into the common area. 

“He can fill out those forms at the counter as easily as he can fill them out in the conference room,” Clint said, pouring himself some coffee. “And there’s better coffee up here.” 

Steve put the pancakes on a platter, put some more batter in the pan, and reached over Clint to pour Neal a cup of coffee, passing it to him with a kiss. Neal smiled as he went back to his forms, distracted.

Steve was most of the way through his batch of batter when a loud peal of thunder introduced the final member of the original six Avengers. There was another “boom”ing sound, and the door to the balcony opened, revealing Thor, who was wearing what passed for Asgardian leisurewear, his hammer nowhere in sight. 

“My friends, we are well met,” he said, walking over to hug everyone. He introduced himself to Neal, saying it was “wonderful to meet the Alpha who made the good Captain so happy,” before pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

Thor’s arrival meant Steve started on a new batch of pancake batter. He was just putting the next round of pancakes on the frying pan when Scott Lang came bounding out of the elevator, loudly proclaiming that he’d discovered how to do… something… with the Pym Particles. He grabbed a pancake from the platter, stuffing it in his mouth, when he noticed Neal.

“You know, you look just like this thief I used to know. Wonder what happened to him… You ever pull any heists in the Bay Area?” he asks, turning to Tony before Neal could answer him. 

“I may or may not have filled in for a safecracker a few years ago in the Bay Area,” Neal said after a moment. “Something about a daughter. I didn’t ask any questions.” 

“You must be Neal Caffrey, then.” Scott shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet a fellow thief. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m reformed - I run a gallery in Park Slope,” Neal studied the Alpha. “It’s Scott, right?”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that. Scott Lang. Reformed, too. You never said why you were here.” Scott’s voice was serious, as if the Alpha didn’t quite believe Neal. 

“I’m Steve’s Alpha.” Neal reached out and took Steve’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I plan to be here far more often, as a part of his life.”


	18. Epilogue : mid-credits scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Neal

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[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/21/a1/fiPvon4n_o.jpg)

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“You know, when I got the invitation, I was quite surprised,” Pepper Potts was saying. “I’ve had my eye on this gallery for a while, but I’ve never had a chance to visit.”

“I’m glad I could help you with that, Ms. Potts,” Neal said, offering her his arm. “Was there any work in particular you were looking for?”

“Nothing specific, Mr. Caffrey, though I saw some very interesting post-modern abstracts in your catalog.” She took his arm and they exited his office into the main gallery.

“Believe it or not, post-modern abstracts are not my strong suit. I’m an expert in paintings from the Renaissance through European Impressionism, including authentication, but this show is not my wheelhouse.” Neal smiled at one of his many guests. 

“The last gallery opening I attended, I took Tony with me,” Pepper said with a soft smile. “He’s a genius, but he doesn’t know much about art.”

“I’ll try to do better in the future, Ms. Potts.”

“Not necessary, Mr. Caffrey.” With a wink, Pepper headed over to the painting that had attracted her attention and started talking with the artist, who looked a little overwhelmed. It wasn’t every day the CEO of Stark Industries asked you questions about your art. With a small smile, Neal discretely checked his watch, straightened his cufflinks, and wandered his way through the gallery opening.


End file.
